At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness
by blank101
Summary: Son of Suns Trilogy Part III - A new Empire is emerging as a new Emperor takes center-stage, his contradictions dividing Rebels and Empire alike, and pitching allies and enemies into a battle which will question every conviction, test every friendship and challenge every loyalty. Action/Drama/Romance Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade Han Solo/Leia Organa, Mothma, Madine, OC's COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

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_**PLEASE NOTE **_

_**THIS IS THE THIRD PART OF THE SON OF SUNS TRILOGY.**_

**_Part One:- Into the Storm_**

**_Part Two:- In Shadows and Darkness_**

**_Part Three:- At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness_**

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_I just thought you might like a Prologue to get the ball rolling._

_This crosses over with the last chapter of In Shadows and Darkness, seeing points not covered and from different perspectives and pretty much setting everybody in place for the start of the next story._

_Hope you enjoy._

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**At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness**

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**PROLOGUE**

**Part One**

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Palpatine was dead, slain by the one person with the ability to do so but not, before now, the motivation; the man who the Emperor believed he had owned, mind and soul; the man who was, in those final hours, willing to give his life to bring the Emperor down. The man who lay in still silence after six hours of surgery, the white sheet which moved against his slow breaths seeming to Mara far too much like a shroud.

All around her in the Palace, all hell was probably breaking loose as his advocates sought to hide the truth and stabilise the Empire to a carefully-planned agenda. It didn't matter any more to Mara; she existed outside of time and space in a bubble of reality defined by the shallow breathing of the man she had betrayed. The man she had saved. The man she...

She stood beside him in the darkness as he lay unconscious… and she cried. For the first time since she was a child, she cried, tears running unheeded down her cheeks, her jaw tightly clamped against the sob that welled in her throat. She cried because Palpatine was gone. Because she was grateful Luke was here. She cried with relief and release. For what she'd lost, for what she'd gained - for what she feared she'd pushed away irrevocably.

He'd walked into her life and he'd turned everything- _everything_ she believed upside down. Every lesson, every viewpoint, every conviction. Shaken her beliefs to the core.

But not like that at all; not by force or manipulation, both of which she knew so well, but gradually and persuasively. The lightest touch, the slightest spur, the subtlest encouragement, oblivious of his power over her.

Alone in the velvet shadows of the most wrenching, gruelling, terrifying day of her life, she stood and watched the reason for all this heartache as he lay in absolute stillness, the dull light of the scanner making discrete tracks up and down the underside of the medical bed, the readouts above him updating every time it returned to the cradle.

Mara Jade shook her head slowly, still in some netherworld of shock at the events of the day. But it wasn't just her world that had been turned upside down; not just the Palace or Coruscant or the government or the military. The whole damn galaxy had changed in the space of a few short hours… it just didn't know it yet. Everything was in flux, everything was shifting… around him; _his_ actions, _his_ decisions.

Was that what had held him back for so long? Because now, when she really thought about it, it was a terrifying prospect. The galaxy was resting on his shoulders. The fate of every sentient being; of civilisation - it would all hang on his actions. Everyone; _everyone everywhere_, would turn to Coruscant and hold baited breath, expectant, afraid, hopeful.

He would define the direction of history… he already had.

Palpatine had always carried the burden lightly; a mixture of blithe indifference, deep-rooted belief in his own right to rule and absolute self-confidence had granted him the clarity of vision and unshakable certitude to exert his command with utter conviction. Right or wrong, saviour or tyrant, he had carved a path and dragged his Empire into alignment without hesitation. He had united a galaxy at war with itself under a single rule and held it there by brute force and absolute, ruthless will. His word was law… _had been_ law.

And all that burden, command and continuity of the civilisation Palpatine had created, would now fall to Luke. To the man who had never wanted power; the man who had constantly questioned the tenets of the Empire and reviled the Emperor.

Say what you would about Palpatine's absolute rule, but it had held warring factions to peace for twenty years. Would Luke have the will and the tenacity, the _confidence_ to do the same? To carry the Empire Palpatine had created forward? He had never wanted power; had actively avoided it for so long, Mara knew. Didn't think he deserved it- she laughed mirthlessly at that; if anybody had proved their right to rule it had been Luke in the last five years; he'd been to hell and back… but not quite back - never quite back.

He'd come here as raw potential, all blunt resistance and stubborn convictions and naïve principles, and Palpatine had carved ability from that aptitude, had created a Sith and honed him in the fires of violent trials and intense pressure and enforced change, challenging and goading and driving and punishing. Coercing and guiding and refining and perfecting.

His fine blade, Palpatine called him, and she understood why.

All that wild fire of youthful, impetuous haste and that obstinate, wilful ability to endure for his beliefs had been tempered and shaped into resilience and spirit and absolute fearless courage. Every weakness laid bare and broken, every strength enhanced, every possibility realised.  
Again that smile touched the corners of her lips; perhaps he wasn't nearly as unprepared as he believed then… or she. Considering the gauntlet he now faced it was, in truth, for the best that the idealistic, indignant Rebel pilot who'd arrived here had been so completely purged by Palpatine; had been dragged kicking and screaming and resisting every step of the way into his rightful place…

His rightful place; it was the first time she'd ever thought that.

She'd known of course that he would rule one day. But in the back of her head; some distant, dreamlike fact that required no closer consideration as yet.

Then yesterday... yesterday in an escalating chain of mistakes and missteps on everybody's part, the man who had always stood with reluctant disquiet in Palpatine's shadow had reached the end of his endurance and snapped - turned on the Master who had invested so much in controlling him and given vent to years of abuse and repression; had shown his Master just how much he had learned.

And suddenly, with a single act, a dire decision borne from anger and loss and betrayal, they were here.

It was the inevitable, inexorable fate that everyone, even she, had tried so hard not to see. Torn between her master and her lover, Mara felt she at least had some excuse for her involuntary blindness. What possible excuse had her master held- what had blinded him so completely to Luke's burgeoning power and crumbling conscience?

He had invested so much in creating his perfect Sith advocate; his wolf. Abruptly Mara remembered the warning issued to her long ago by Luke, _"If you put your hand out to a wolf, you shouldn't be surprised when it bites."_

Because having realized his wolf, Palpatine hadn't so much reached out his hand as turned his back; dropped his guard and taken its obedience for granted.

But then, hadn't she been guilty of the same… hadn't she herself once worried that Skywalker was simply biding his time?

She stepped forward, trailing the back of her fingers lightly down his scuffed cheek, remembering the dread and despair in those desolate eyes when he'd arrived at the Palace just hours ago, _knowing_ his father was dead, killed by Palpatine. No, this was no premeditated act - this had been grief and loss and fury and desolation, let loose at the one who had caused them without any trace of remorse… but the end result had been the same.

Palpatine was still dead, and whether he liked it or not – whether he wanted it or not – Luke had locked himself and the Empire into an irreversible course.

The man whom Palpatine had trained to rule was about to take his place as the single, most powerful man in the galaxy. And he needed to rule with an iron rod if he was to hold this Empire together in his first years; stop it from spiralling back down into decades of civil war as challengers and pretenders vied for the throne.

Did he understand that? Even if he did, would he choose to act upon it? And if so…how?

Because as she stood in the still silence, hand trembling to an unsteady stop against his bruised face, Mara realised with a terrible clarity that whispered a cold trail down her spine…

Although she had shared his life and his bed and in tiny, shattered fragments, some glimpse into his shredded soul… she had no idea, none whatsoever, of what he would do.

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	2. Chapter 2

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**At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness**

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**PROLOGUE**

**Part Two**

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Han Solo, Blue-Wing Commander onboard Home-One, was drawling through the final part of his lecture to the latest batch of new pilots, a large holo-image of one of the Empire's new Interat-TIE fighters slowly rotating in space next to him. He glanced out into gloom, taking in that sea of bright, expectant faces, reflecting that they seemed to get a little younger every year…  
Han narrowed his eyes at that, an alarming thought occurring; or maybe he was getting older?

Nah, couldn't be that.

This was a new Red Flight; 'Sparks', they'd nicknamed themselves, due to their bright, high-visibility orange flightsuits, painfully new and all zipped up, though a few were already beginning to emulate the veterans who wore their hot, stuffy flightsuits unzipped and rolled down to the waist, the arms tied about them and knotted there. Reds; X-Wing pilots, if they made it. 'Bright Sparks', they had called their new Wing Group. Han had already told them that before their first real combat mission was through, half of them would have proved to be no more than a flash in the dark.

A movement to the edge of the auditorium caught his eye as Leia entered, the door sliding open momentarily to let a sliver of bright light in from the corridor beyond. She raised her eyebrows meaningfully, a tense, nervous expression on her face which made Han's chest tighten.

Glancing back to the recruits, he brought the lecture to a quick end, "So- to sum up; if you're lookin' at the tail, you're laughin'… but don't forget to keep an eye out for his wingman. And if he's lookin' at _your_ tail, then you'd better hope your own wingman's got more savvy than you have or you're both dust. Right… okay then, back to the flight sim's."

There was a collected moan and Han couldn't help but smile, remembering back when he too felt the most exciting thing in the galaxy was to get behind the stick of a spacecraft – a real one that was. Still felt it a little with the Falcon, though the novelty of flying an A-Wing fighter for the Alliance had soon worn off after a few months of being cramped into the cold, teeth-rattling cockpit. Yeah; a few weeks of double shifts in a snub fighter would cure anyone of that.

Still, he grinned into their groans, amused, "What? Did you seriously think I was gonna let you bunch-a' reprobates into one of my nice X-Wings? Sixty hours, people. Come back when you got sixty hours of high-score combat on your flight sim' card and I might - I just _might _- let you go up.

"Your X-Wings are piles of pudu anyway." some wisemouth muttered from the crowd as they filed out towards the door.

Han turned on him, "Hey, watch your mouth kid, or you're gonna find yourself flying garbage scows till the galaxy stops turnin'."

Momentarily he lost the diminutive Leia beneath the blaze of bright orange jumpsuits and youthful grins as the rowdy group of pilots made their way out, turning to the flight simulators down the corridor. She glanced at Han over their heads, almost swamped by them, so tiny was she, standing on tip-toe to keep his eye; "Something's happening on Coruscant."

"Yeah?" Han was unimpressed. "Something's always happening on Coruscant."

Leia ignored that completely; she'd found it was often the best course otherwise they ended up wildly off topic and one or the other of them would always storm off before she'd actually gotten to the point of what she was trying to say. "You know Palpatine cancelled Court two days ago – and yesterday? We just got word it's been cancelled again today."

"C'mon give the guy a break Leia," Han drawled, heading back to the lectern to turn off the holo, the panic over as far as he was concerned. "Its hard work runnin' the galaxy into the ground _and_ bleeding it dry at the same time. Maybe he took a vacation- somewhere sunny. Force knows the guy could use a bit of color in his cheeks."

"Seriously Han, this has _never_ happened before." Leia maintained, beginning to wonder why she'd bothered coming all the way up here.

Han turned about to take her shoulders as she followed him, letting loose that lopsided grin he knew she couldn't resist and kissing her lightly on the forehead in reassurance, reminding her exactly why she was here.

"Look sweetheart, it's probably nothing. He went to that… whatever- winter retreat place last year and Court was cancelled for two weeks."

"Court wasn't cancelled, it was relocated to the Winter Palace." Leia corrected, "And Intel says it was done to introduce Kiria D'Arca to The Heir in a less formal setting."

"Please," Han scoffed, "They take the whole of Court near halfway across the planet to the Pole just so they can have some society launch of another spoiled little princess…" Han took a half-step back, hands out before him, "No offence, sweetheart – and all so they can introduce her to Luke without it seeming too obvious? You can do that anywhere." At this he launched into miming an imaginary introduction, hands indicating empty spaces as he ran through his routine, "Luke, this is D'Arca. D'Arca; Luke. See? Easy."

It used to drive Leia insane that Han stubbornly clung to the habit of calling The Heir by the name that he'd used whilst he'd been a spy here in the Alliance; now it slipped past unnoticed so often that she'd even found herself thinking of him as such again every now and then. In a strange way it made it easier; he'd had many titles since he'd finished his infiltration of the Alliance and returned to the Empire but strangely no actual name, as if Palpatine were loathe to let the truth out. Certainly his past was a cut thread; no-one, not even the Bothans, had been able to unearth the slightest fact on him. Han of course took all this as proof enough that Luke Skywalker was…. well, Luke Skywalker, which was the biggest leap in logic and faith that Leia had ever seen – particularly for a self-confessed cynic.

It was a strangely dehumanising thing, to know another only by his title, leaving one always slightly uncomfortable when talking of him. Perhaps that was the point - but if so, it was wasted on her, Leia detrmined; the Emperor had dealt too often in subtleties and mindgames, and she wasn't buying.

"I think there was a little more at stake if Palpatine was willing to move the whole of Court than…" Leia paused, realising what Han had just said about spoiled princesses, "What do you mean, no offence!?"

He took a breath to answer her but she put her hand out, hanging doggedly onto her reason for coming down here, "Stop, don't answer that. The point is, Intel says the Executor should have broken orbit yesterday for Nal Hutta and the Patriot should have left today, and they're both still in geostationary orbit - and the Peerless has joined them. When was the last time you saw three Super Star Destroyers in orbit around Coruscant?"

Han frowned, feeling something begin to creep up his own spine at that. "Really? 'Cos Flight Control's starting to get routine Intel reports from all over for the last two days sayin' that Destroyers are breaking with standard duty schedules."

Leia wrapped her arms about herself, unable to shake the feeling that something big had happened, remembering the strange, wired sense that had dragged her abruptly from sleep three days ago, mind and stomach both tied in knots of dread and panic, shouting out into the night.

Remembering pacing the dark for hours afterwards, unable to shake the indistinct nightmare or calm her pounding heart, knowing in every fibre of her being that somehow, somewhere, something momentous had happened, some basic shift, at once too far away and yet too big to see.

She'd spent the last three days on tenterhooks, waiting, watching for some change, some anomaly, some break from routine. And here it was.

The first day it had been easy to dismiss; an unexpected report on top of a bad night's sleep. Palpatine occasionally cancelled Court for a night, usually in parallel with The Heir's disappearance for a few weeks, and certainly the Bothans had confirmed that this time, routinely checking for his whereabouts if Court was disrupted. Then the same report had come in yesterday; Court cancelled, no sign of The Heir. There were changes noted in daily schedules at the Palace; guards reassigned, stormtroopers brought down from the two Super Star Destroyers in orbit. Three unconfirmed reports that there were blue-pauldroned stormtroopers in the Residential Towers- in the Towers! It was unprecedented.

And so it went on through the day; changes in pre-assigned courses on Destroyers, elevated levels of interchange on military communication lines, Command staff mysteriously reassigned without notice, the Peerless reappearing at Coruscant.  
And every new fragment of information wound Leia's stomach tighter and pressed in with mind-numbing power until even the low lights of Intel's assessment centre made her head throb and her heart pound.

"Something's happening," She murmured, shaking her head, knowing she was echoing Han's thoughts now, "Something big."

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Mara stood to loose attention for long seconds in the inner atrium to the medicentre, tapping her foot impatiently, awaiting Hallin. Though she had never once been excluded from seeing Luke in the three days he had remained here since his duel with the Emper…. with Palpatine, she was now uncomfortably aware of the fact that every time she arrived, she was made to wait until Luke's personal medic and trusted ally Nathan Hallin appeared to clear her for entry.

Thus it had been made politely, pointedly clear that if they wanted to, either Hallin or Reece presently had the power to exclude her from seeing Luke completely, her access controlled probably more at the ever-cautious Reece's insistence than Hallin's she suspected; the medic seemed to have mellowed a little in the days following '_the event'_, his frayed nerves calming as Luke recovered.

He was even smiling today, as he entered the atrium from the medicentre, remaining in the doorway as an invitation for her to return with him. "Good morning, Commander."

With only a momentary sideways glance at the watchful guards, Mara stepped forward. She could have passed them at any time of course; five years as Luke's personal bodyguard hadn't dulled her combat edge in the slightest and had she felt the need, they would all have been dead before even one could draw his weapon. But this wasn't the time for making waves; right now she needed to play the game - and she needed everyone to know that she was willing to do so.

Because suddenly, after a lifetime at the top of the pile as Palpatine's personal envoy, she had no official jurisdiction at all. No legitimate rank, no power, nothing- only an ambiguous personal link to the man who was Palpatine's successor, and that precarious, if they found out the truth… if Luke chose to tell them. Thus far, he hadn't.

"You can go straight through." Hallin said easily, tactfully making no move to enter Luke's suite as she stepped past him. "He's up already."

When she entered his small medi-center suite, Luke was halfway across the room, one arm wrapped about his ribs against his injuries there. He wore only a pair of linen sleep trousers, so that the near-mortal lightsaber wound which ran front to back through one side of his stomach was clearly visible, marked by rows of neat sutures and sythiflesh, heavy internal bleeding leaving dark bruises.

He paused, offering a half-smile. They were both still uneasy, the breach of confidence which Mara had committed still foremost in their minds, and though Luke seemed willing on one level to move past it Mara could understand his reticence yet, so soon after the event. She had wanted to talk, to at least be allowed to put her reasons forward, to make some attempt if not to defend the undefendable, then at least to explain it, to apologize- to lay it to rest.

But he wasn't ready yet, unwilling to discuss it at all, let alone her role in it. Every attempt on Mara's part made him either defensive or evasive, and her own guilt and Luke's obvious brittle fragility, both mental and physical, had held her to an uneasy silence.

Awareness of her tenuous position - of the fact that if she rocked the boat too much then either Reece or even Hallin may well decide it was in Luke's best interests to limit her access to him, and that in his present state and considering her actions he would probably allow it - also played uneasily on her mind, making Mara worry that they had both survived all this only to be carved apart by it. Now she smiled hesitantly as he glanced away uncomfortably, his own smile quick and forced.

"You're up early." It was an awkward banality, but Mara couldn't in that moment think of anything else to say.

She took two fast steps forward as he backstepped and turned side-on to her, turning what would have been an intimate kiss into little more than a peck to the edge of his lip. To cover the fact, he reached out to the bed for the fresh towel which was laid there with his free hand, more as an avoidance of her closeness than for any greater reason.

"I was just…" he held the thick, heavy towel up, voice apologetic more at the awkwardness of his avoidance than for any other reason, she knew. "Nathan's cleared me for a water-shower."

His quiet words were perfectly-enunciated. Even here, in private, the refined Coruscanti accent that Palpatine had been so determined he would voice and had so ground into him over the years, still held sway, his own provincial Rim accent completely lost to it. Another little piece of Luke Skywalker surrendered to survive.

But there were still fragments to be seen, if you knew where to look – he hated sonic showers for the sole reason that he had grown up with them on Tatooine, where water was far too rare-a commodity to waste on washing. He'd been nagging Hallin from the moment he'd woken and the medic had apparently finally relented, though knowing Luke he may well be acting on his own initiative here despite his words.

Mara stepped back and to the side, head set at a wry angle, "Emperor of the galaxy and you have to wait for…"

"Don't say that." He said quickly, still deeply uneasy at everything that had happened.

Mara sighed, wondering how Reece and Hallin were getting on with this one; certainly he hadn't once allowed the title to pass without contradicting her. But the fact was that on Palpatine's death, his title had immediately passed to his named Heir. The first announcement of his death was due to go out over all official HoloNet channels in a few hours time, three days after the actual event, accompanied by a short, pre-recorded message by Luke.

Pre-recorded. A subtle reminder that, however premature, this insurrection had been planned.

Not surprisingly, Reece and Hallin had gone to great lengths to hide the fact that it was Luke who had killed Palpatine in a duel which had almost cost both their lives. A duel triggered by Mara, though neither Reece nor Hallin knew that yet.

Because it was Mara who had told the Emperor of Luke's unauthorised meetings with his father; she who had brought his insurrection to light. Unwillingly, but still… whether Palpatine believed her that Luke was being manipulated by his father or whether he had his own reasons for killing Vader she didn't know, and ultimately it didn't matter. The relevant point was that it was Mara who had betrayed Luke and his father. Luke must surely hold her responsible for his father's death.

And in her own mind, Mara felt the sickening guilt of responsibility for Palpatine's as well- the man to whom she'd pledged absolute allegiance.

She remembered her master once saying that Force-sensitives were, by their very nature, facilitators of change, their involvement in any event rendering it too fluid to read or predict with any accuracy. Luke was nothing if not unpredictable, a trait which had increased over the years rather than stabilised. When he'd first been brought here against his will, he had at least been predictable in his loyalties to friends and causes; controllable through them. But Palpatine had stripped him of such 'weaknesses' and in doing so had cut him free of any ties.

He had, he believed, created his wolf - had named Luke as such; his Wolf, his perfect Sith advocate. Everything he had anticipated in Vader had finally been fulfilled in his son; all the power and the connection and attunement to the Force he had once seen in his father, Palpatine had finally realized in Skywalker. But the wolf he'd created had been and wild and wilful and feral and in hindsight her master had never truly tamed that fire and fury. He'd put it on a leash, held it to heel for a while but…

Mara remembered when she had once told Luke that Palpatine's epithet for his new Sith was fitting and he had turned on her, outraged;

"_Then you're a fool to be here- never trust a wolf."  
_"_I trust you."  
_"_No you don't - not really. You tell yourself you can trust - you think you're safe because for some reason you believe you can control it… but I can't, so I'm damn sure that you can't. You're not nearly as safe as you think."  
_"_You're saying that you're capable of hurting me? I don't believe you."  
_"_I'm saying if you reach out to a wolf you shouldn't be surprised when it bites."_

She took a step back now, allowing him to pass, glancing at him as he did so; at the myriad of fine cuts and nicks and scrapes on his body and his face from the duel, pale bristles visible because he wasn't yet able to shave.

He didn't look like a wolf. Didn't look like a Sith or an Emperor. Didn't look like the man who had killed Palpatine - who had changed the path of galactic history…

But the truth was he was all those things - and from one moment to the next, she was never quite sure which he would be anymore… and deep down, she suspected Luke felt exactly the same.

But she was sure of one thing, even if Luke himself wasn't; he _was_ Emperor.

By his own hand, he was Emperor now.

"Luke, you know at some point you're going to have to accept…"

"Not now. Not yet." He said levelly without turning, voice quiet but resolute, "I'll deal with it all- set it straight. But later."

He walked slowly away, tired to the bone, hand still wrapped about his injured stomach, leaving Mara to wonder once again how she could associate the quiet, unassuming man before her with the one who had returned to the Palace only hours after his father's death, incensed and bereft and outraged, finally provoked to the point that he was willing to challenge Palpatine. Because of her. Because of her, he'd done this.

She lowered her head, searching to reignite that spark of comfortable, familiar intimacy between them but unable to even look him in the eye, "I'll…" remembering he was heading to the shower, Mara stuttered to a stop as Luke paused, leaning on the door jamb of the 'fresher for support. She smiled tentatively, suddenly uncomfortable, unsure what she should do. "I'll just… I'll wait here."

She glanced about, sitting on the bed, the memory of early mornings and shared showers and so many stolen moments of intimacy in the Palace playing vividly through her head.

Luke simply nodded in silence and disappeared into the 'fresher suite without looking back.

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Inside he paused, hand to the wall as he steadied himself, his mind racing, unsure if she was aware how deeply her close, attentive presence disturbed him right now. Ironic, really; they'd spent so long hiding and masquerading, concealing their closeness. Every glance a danger, every touch a stolen risk, and now that they could finally be together, now he just… didn't know anymore. Didn't know if he could forgive her- or was it her fault at all?

It had, after all, been he who had instigated and allowed to continue a relationship which he _knew_ was a danger to himself and those around him; Mara had never concealed her loyalties. It had been _he_ who had admitted to Mara that he and his father were in collusion when she'd confronted him, _he_ who had actually refused to take her to Mosiin with him, leaving her in the Palace close to her master.

He'd given her the ammunition, but still… she'd chosen to use it.

And where did that leave them? He really had on idea any more.

He let himself lean forward against the wall, part out of exhaustion even at this small exertion, and part out of dismay at his own misgivings, the marble cool against his forehead as he closed his eyes, listening to the rattle in his breath from his injured lung.

"_You cannot trust." _his Master had said so many times._ "Trust will always confine and contain; trust will always weaken and betray. If I leave you with one knowledge, it shall be that; enemies make war, but the wounds are clean and they will always heal. Trust alone will make you truly bleed, child. Trust alone can mutilate and maim- betrayal is the most brutal butcher_."

Luke shook his head slowly against the cool marble; it wasn't true… was it?

His father had trusted and it had killed him; there had been no fight, Luke knew that. A single blow, straight through the heart.

Palpatine had trusted, in his own way; had thought even then that Luke would allow him control – and it had killed him.

Luke had trusted, and lost everything. Like a fool, he had trusted. Despite everything; every lesson, every edification every eager example on his Master's behalf. Did he keep on trusting, now? Had he learned nothing? Or did he stop trusting, and prove Palpatine right? Did he give the black-hearted Sith that power over him – that influence, that _win_?

Because he'd be damned if he would.

But he couldn't do this again; couldn't bleed like this again. Couldn't hurt like this.

So what did he do?

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Lost in her own thoughts and frustrations, Mara's head had snapped up when the sound of Luke's cursing drifted through the half-open 'fresher door above the hiss of the water, bringing her quickly to her feet, afraid that something had happened.

"Luke… are you okay?" She set hesitantly forward into the 'fresher, walking into the outer room.

His voice came from the far side of the wide frosted screen, laced with disillusionment and frustration, "Yeah- except I can't lift my hands up above my head."

He couldn't even do this- couldn't even wash his own hair. They wanted to call him Emperor and he couldn't even do this.

Mara was silent for long seconds, torn between sympathy and helplessness… then she smiled. Turning, she paced quickly across the marble-tiled room and locked the door to the 'fresher as she unzipped her bodysuit.

Luke remained under the deluge of the shower for long minutes, arm across his stomach wound where the water stung the sutures, feeling it drench him, washing away memories which threatened to overwhelm him; the realization of what he'd done, the still-raw memory of why, the absolute loss as to what to do next…

Smooth hands stroked over his shoulders making him start, so deeply had he been lost in thought…

"Mara!? What.. " Had she forgotten where they were?

She took the small bar of shampoo, reaching up to rub it through his water-tangled hair, "Turn around."

"Would you... what the hell are you doing!?"

"I'm washing your hair." She said calmly.

He reached out to take her arms as she lifted them to his head, holding her back forcibly, but she shook her head gently, voice open and firm and adamant, promising the strength that he needed right now, the calm in the eye of the storm. "No more secrets anymore Luke. No more hiding. From now on, we make our own rules. We make our own future. We get through this- we get through it together."

She gently slipped her arms free of his hands and reached up again to run her fingers through his wet hair.

Slowly, hesitantly, he relaxed, lowering his head beneath the torrent of water, resting his hands on her slim hips.

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It was late in the day when the announcement went out on all official channels across the HoloNet; Emperor Palpatine, founder of the Galactic Empire, had died the previous night following a short illness.

Onboard the Rebel Base, Home-One, Leia had heard the news from the Bothan spy network about an hour before it was released across the HoloNet, but she still waited before making the statement over all fleet channels, unable to bring herself to do it before that moment.

Somehow she hadn't believed it – hadn't dared – and yet in every fibre of her being, she knew he was gone.

Now, just like that, in the space of a few minutes, absolutely _everything_ had changed and they were stood on shifting sand, the whole galaxy reeling. Everything and nothing; following the official announcement, a short message was read by a sombre-dressed Skywalker in that perfectly enunciated Coruscanti accent. Expressing regret, pledging continuity, assuring stability.

Leia had been stood with everyone else in the mess hall when it was released, having gone there immediately after the HoloNet announcement that Palpatine was dead, knowing there would be a thousand and one questions, none of which she could answer. The room was in uproar when someone came rushing in, activating the holo-emitter there, shouting and shushing the crowd.

Everyone fell to a slow, uneasy silence to hear the quietly spoken words by the dark-dressed Heir, not a trace of emotion in his face or his tone.

Except, she supposed, he wasn't the Heir anymore - and the tumult of feeling which rose within her at that was dizzying, making her grip against Han by her side.

What did you do? What did you do when the man you once believed you knew so well had become Emperor? What did you do when that was the most terrifying thought you could name?

His last words, spoken with quiet dignity in the Court tradition of Archaic Coruscanti – a reassurance subtly aimed at the Royal Houses rather than the populace at large – did nothing to hide the permasteel hardness and absolute conviction which underlined them;

"En Emporo morteo. Emporituus eternuus."

_The Emperor is dead. Long live the Empire._

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	3. Chapter 3

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**At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness**

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"Everything crumbles;  
Intentions and Empires, Councils and Kinships."

Extract from The Son of Suns Prophesy,(Jedi Master Egorin Dovas translation; 3/ 14,159 -minus.)  
Engraved into the Sunburst Throne (The Seat of Prophesy) circa 23,711 -minus.

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* * *

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**CHAPTER ONE**

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Luke sat in the purposeful, focused silence of his offices in The Cabinet, high up in the South Tower of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant, the long bank of tall transparisteel doors flung open along one wall, rain patting against the pale travertine stone of the balcony beyond.

Far below, playing a constant tune all their own, was the reverberating metallic clatter of the regimented flagpoles on the long stretch of the 'pennant balcony' in the Main Palace, known to the thousands who worked and lived here as The Monolith. Flags from hundreds of planets were set on poles close to the top of the massive, imposing bulk of the hundred-storey Monolith, the centre of government, commerce and the military for the Empire.

As obsessive and paranoid as Palpatine was, he had always kept all power as close to hand as he could, and now, a year into the new Emperor's reign, it stayed here simply because it was the most efficient way to manage the massive logistical problem which comprised the far-spanning reach of the immense Empire, specifically designed for the purpose.  
In this, as in many things, the new Emperor was gaining a reputation as pragmatic in every sense of the word; at times practical and unpretentious, at others callous and impenetrable, coolly ruthless, already a notoriously dangerous man to cross.

But then, none of this was a surprise to those few who remained from the old days of Emperor Palpatine's Court; although he was aged just twenty-four when he'd been officially recognized as the old Emperor's Heir little more than a year before Palpatine's death, his protégé had attended Court far longer with his Sith Master. Everyone had expected a long initiation into his new position, though there were those in Court and the military who had laid their claim early and supported the new Heir, either openly or surreptitiously, and those sharp enough to have invested the time in learning what they could about him had long studied his form and his mercurial, erratic nature.

Because of his abilities, it had often been whispered that he was Palpatine's son, but then it had also been whispered that he was Vader's son, and whatever the young Emperor knew he kept to himself, not in the habit of handing out information. Even his name was a mystery; Palpatine had always called him his Wolf; Commander of his Fleet, his feral Jedi. No name… never a name.

Even now, he was referred to simply as 'The Emperor'. Excellency or Sir, if one was privileged enough to speak to him firsthand. Servants occasionally claimed to have overheard a name spoken in the privacy of his quarters by those closest to him; Luke, they said, but that was of little use to those who tried to trace the identity of their new Emperor.

People had whispered of course; how Palpatine's death had followed so quickly; only a year after his Heir's acknowledgment. How regimented and organised The Heir's accession was- almost like a coup in its military precision.

But no-one said it out loud – or if they did, it was only once.

Now the flags rustled in the high wind which whipped about the sides of the Monolith, their irregular clattering chatter still audible through the doors of the office in which the Emperor sat.

He was, as ever, impeccably dressed in a military-cut suit of darkest blue, though in the privacy of his office, the jacket was presently hanging on the back of a chair to the far side of the sizeable room, the high stand collar of his white linen shirt barely covering the heavy, indented scar to the right side of his neck. That and the faded scar which ran from above his eyebrow down the right side of his face and through his lips were visible reminders of a Rebel assassination attempt two years earlier on the announcement of his accession to Heir Apparent, as were his mismatched eyes. His right eye, injured in that bomb blast, still held a dark flash twisted through the pale pupil, rendering once-blue eyes disconcertingly mismatched.

Why he had chosen to keep these scars nobody knew- save the few of course; those who had been present at the time knew that it was the old Emperor's choice, the Heir still unconscious, comatose for weeks following the near-successful attempt.

But near-success was another word for failure, and to hypothesise what might have been had the attempt been successful was an empty exercise. As it was, what could have been a crippling and costly descent into anarchy and civil war on the old Emperor's death was moulded into an effective, well-organized transition, supporters already waiting in the wings, their numbers sufficient to hold together a fledgling regime against opportunistic powerplays and self-serving sedition.

Detractors within the Royal Houses had been anticipated, as had a certain amount of resistance in the old-school military, though the public were enthusiastic, particularly when changes came so soon after the new Emperor's accession. Those with more political savvy watched with a more muted cynicism, awaiting the long-term outcomes.

To date in the year he had held office, the new Emperor had walked a fine line between progressive and traditionalist, the only outward changes made coming within weeks of his investiture in the form of amends to the constitution, relaxing access to the HoloNet and re-evaluating the old Imperial 'Classification of Sentient Species Act' instigated by Palpatine, commonly referred to as the Slavery Edict.

No longer could a sentient of any species be indentured, paid less, or have his free movement restricted because of his 'classification', a fact which now theoretically banned the legalized slavery which had long existed in Palpatine's reign. In practice, Class-E citizens – non-humans previously subject to the Classification of Species Act – accounted for nearly a quarter of sentient beings, so that the complications of enforcing such an edict were massive, and visible change ponderously slow. The Core and Colony Systems, conversely the least likely to home Class-E citizens, were really the only systems where enforcement and policing of the new laws was immediately practicable, enforcement of the new amendments regulated by the very people who were responsible for policing their instigation two decades earlier – the Imperial military – so change was as much a case of re-education as of enforcement, and such things always took time.

Detractors claimed that the actual wording of the changes to the Classification of Species Act were vague enough to allow for a certain amount of interpretation, typical of Imperial statements of power, and certainly the man who was praised for instigating them was also acknowledged as an unyielding authoritarian, holding a massive military and the power-hungry Royal Houses in check, by force and without the slightest compunction if necessary. But such powerplays were achieved in the highest echelons of power and not for the public domain.

To most, he was regarded as a more moderate replacement for the old Emperor, and despite the fact that in the main, power and restrictions remained exactly as before, these more public concessions, brought about so quickly, had bought him popularity. Limited public appearances – unheard of in his predecessor's rule – had given the Empire a human face and the citizenry a sense of genuine change, something which was evident all over the newly-relaxed HoloNet.

Those same new freedoms of speech also enabled detractors claimed loudly that these concessions were little more than a popularity stunt; a veneer of reform laid over the stifling restrictions of the same old Empire. Despite new edicts vaunted as an easing of certain freedoms of speech, any use of the HoloNet to cite, seek, encourage or disseminate organised insurrection – and by extension and explicit reference the Rebellion – remained illegal. Any member of such an organization, anyone who aided, funded or supplied any member, and anyone who facilitated their existence by either tacit disregard or undeclared knowledge, still faced summary execution.

But then it came as no surprise within the still-outlawed Rebel Alliance that a man already notorious for mercurial changes of temperament would alternately repeal and enact the founding principles of his old Master's totalitarian State as he saw fit. The Empire was still the Empire, and the new Emperor had yet to truly make his presence felt beyond that first burst of edicts which could yet turn out to be conciliatory lipservice.

The one thing he had done since his accession was to reinforce his position and power base, both politically and militarily, another anticipated move. He was, after all, Emperor Palpatine's favoured savant; a sobering fact which held more weight in the long run than any spontaneous, impulsive edict issued within days of his investiture.

The man himself sat loosely, absorbed in his work, elbows resting on the wide span of the polished burr-wood desk. His head rested in his hand as he studied the autoreader, applied concentration rendering him oblivious to the view which few citizens would ever get to see, the rarest of all luxuries on Coruscant; that of an open skyline which filled one's vision to its edges until massive, mature trees from the extensive, manicured roof gardens of the Palace Monolith reached up to feather the rain-grey sky into the irregular skyline of the city below. And silence… or as near as one came on the Capital Planet, sufficient that the strictly-enforced perimeter of the distant traffic was little more than a subtle murmur, and one could hear the sound of Coruscant's frequent rain on the balcony beyond the tall glass doors.

In this calm, almost meditative hush, the Emperor's office was a hive of discreet, disciplined impetus and practical, unpretentious intent. Piles of printed flimsyplast were loosely stacked and organised across every surface, many others pinned onto a series of boards which had been attached over the ornately carved and inlaid plasterwork on the long run of the far wall, masking it completely. Rows of files and file-chips, each marked by a sliver of pale blue light, stretched the length of one wall in a self-contained reference system, others scattered seemingly at random across the wide desk he worked at.

None of this file-and-retrieval system was linked into the mainframe, and access to the locked system was DNA-coded to a trusted few. This was the Emperor's personal database - the truth about the Empire, they said; past, present and future. Right of entry remained the ultimate goal for so many; the final, fiercely-guarded objective that spelled acceptance into the inner sanctum and the privileged, exclusive entourage that only the trusted few held access to.

This was where the new Empire was being formed; where the new Emperor was carving his own vision into the galaxy he ruled.

Head resting in his right hand, Luke rubbed subconsciously at the scar through his eyebrow as he read the day's dispatches, forcing himself to concentrate. But it was difficult today; much as he disliked dwelling on past events, today stood out in his mind.

Two years ago tonight, just before midnight, Palpatine had announced Luke as Heir Apparent to the Empire - had started in motion the long chain of events which had led up to today.

Before that date, Luke had been… adrift. Thanks to Palpatine's scheming, he had long-since been abandoned by the Rebel Alliance and caged and controlled by the Emperor, but had still existed in a strange limbo of chaotic, tangled ties. His loyalties to the principles of the Rebel Alliance and his Jedi heritage had, in spite of Ben and Yoda's calculating lies, still been very much part of his values and ethics, despite being tied inescapably to Palpatine's relentless coercions and manipulations, always sufficient to hold Luke here but never quite sufficient to turn his loyalties completely.

And ultimately he hadn't needed to. In the end, thanks to Palpatine's announcement, the Alliance had irrevocably rejected Luke rather than the other way around. He still held a private suspicion that his recognition as Heir had been little more than a ploy to induce a reaction from the Alliance whom Luke had still defended before his Master, in words if not in action any more.

If he'd not made that announcement, not recognized Luke as Heir, then Madine would probably never have been able to convince Mon Mothma to authorize the assassination attempt which had almost killed Luke.

Luke would never have realised how isolated he truly was, abandoned and vulnerable on all sides because of his own irresolute hesitancy.  
Would never have made that decision to finally pursue his own goals.  
Would never have looked for potential in the Empire or the flaws in the Alliance.  
Would never have sought to use them – to turn his knowledge of both, good and bad, to serve his own interests.  
Would never have bartered with his Sith Master for the right to hunt down Mothma down in exchange for the location of Master Yoda.

So it had been, for a short while, a resounding success for Palpatine… and ultimately, a devastating failure, compound events rolling out of everyone's control to their inevitable conclusion.

Still, at the time, the Rebellion's assassination attempt had alienated Luke irretrievably, and his father's concern at Luke's appalling injuries had fired the first sparks of acceptance after long years of deep distrust and outright animosity on Luke's part. Tolerance that had ultimately led to Luke's agreement, after years of resentful rejection, to help his father in overthrowing the Emperor. A pact which had led to the Emperor killing Vader when he'd found out the truth. From Mara.

From the one person Luke had wanted- _needed_- to trust. The one person he should have been _entitled_ to trust. Intentionally or not, she'd ripped what little Luke had to call his own to shreds and scattered it to the winds. Left him in pieces; wounds that would never heal.

For one second, for one long second that day as Luke had stood with his hand about her throat, the desire to close his fingers had been overwhelming. To finish what he'd started; what he'd intended when he'd reached out and grabbed her, snapping her about and powering her back against the hard wall with a satisfying _thud_.  
Just… close his thoughts and open his soul and let all that fire and fury and desolate, blinding rage take hold. But his father would still have been dead, and laying blame elsewhere was easy. Taking his own share was as crippling as the loss itself.

Luke glanced up, eyes coming to rest on the small, tooled silver form of the holo-emitter which he had found in his father's apartments at the Palace. He'd finally gone there the day after his father's cremation, just days before his official investiture as Emperor, searching for something. Some solace, some sense of connection, however painful. There had been precious little which had seemed truly personal there; almost nothing which hinted at the private life of its inhabitant.

Two things had caught his eye as he wandered around the silent, impersonal rooms; the painting of the lake and mountains which Luke had been drawn to when he had first visited his father had again pulled him in like a magnet. There was something- _something_ there. Memory, longing, desire, regret… a barbed tangle of emotions and senses all twisted through with his father's unique signature. He'd had the painting taken to his own quarters before sealing his father's apartments, everything exactly as it had been left. One other thing had caught his eye; had drawn him to it like a siren call.

A burst of organic curves sat in the soulless white interior of the barometric chamber that Luke had felt so reluctant to enter; a small, finely-etched holo-transmitter resting on one of the interior surfaces. He'd remained at the entrance of the chamber for long minutes, even considered using the Force to pull it to him before chiding his own queasy reluctance and entering the chamber, the draw of the object overcoming his deep misgivings.

It was the age of the tarnished silver emitter which had struck him - at least a couple of decades, maybe older, the surface etching and inlays worn smooth in places from handling. Breath tensing in his lungs, he'd activated the holo-image in a burst of vibrant static--

A young woman had appeared from the waist up, robed in an incredible gown of dark purple and peacock blue, a wide, intricately-tooled ornamental headdress holding walnut brown hair back from her face to cascade in dark curls over her shoulders and down her back as she turned aside.

"_Don't – Anni don't, I look terrible."_

There was a smile on her ruby lips and in her warm, dark eyes.  
Anni… Anakin! She was speaking to his father! Was this… was this his... he couldn't say it, couldn't even think it.

"_You look beautiful." _

Was that his father's voice? His real voice, not modulated by machinery. It had sounded so… young.

_I'm fat." _The woman bemoaned, voice full of self-depreciating humour.

"_You're glowing"._

She smiled indulgently, let out a little laugh in response to something unseen as the image shook slightly.

"_Stop." _She repeated affectionately, lowering her head.

"_But I'll take it with me back to the Outer Rim- take you with me. Carry you in my pocket everywhere." _

So young, so… alive.

"_Really? _She looked up at that, soft, hazel brown eyes looking directly into the lens, suddenly serious,_ "Then take this; I love you, Anni. I always will." _

It tore Luke's heart, the feeling in those words; the promise, the passion… the brittle undercurrent of unspoken anxiety. He sat for a long time in the chamber, staring mutely at the final image of the delicate, dark-haired woman, a moment frozen in time. Wild potential, absolute commitment, every possible future–

"_I'm fat."  
_"_You're glowing."_

She was pregnant; she was already pregnant when his father had recorded this holo.

No more than eight months later, she was dead.

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Now, Luke reached out to finger the cool surface of the vintage holo-emitter where it sat on his desk, though he didn't activate it; he seldom did. In a way, it hurt more to have this fleeting glimpse than to remain completely unaware.

Sometimes… on the rare occasions when he did activate it to stare in silent melancholy at the stranger who had been his mother, sometimes just for a moment he glimpsed someone else in the haunting image of the delicate, dark-haired woman with big brown eyes… then it was gone, his attention taken completely by the vibrant woman before him, probably younger than himself when the image was created.

He ran his finger across the time-smoothed etching of the transmitter, his mind inevitably straying in the still silence of the room.

Regrets; Darkness was full of them. It wove them into a cloak and wrapped you up in them. It twisted them into a rope and bound you to it. It honed them into a blade whose wounds never healed.

The very thing which had given Luke the resolve to bring Palpatine down had been the means which Palpatine had used to kill his father, and vengeance had been a bitter, empty thing with no more substance than a shadow, because it changed nothing save to pull Luke further from the light.

Comprehension of the truth had cut like a thousand knives, a reprisal far worse than any spiteful punishment his vindictive Master had conjured over years of torture and trials - because the one person truly responsible for his father's death… had been Luke himself.

Time afforded perspective and a year after the event, Luke had finally stepped back enough to form a view; to face the facts as he saw them.

_He_ had set events in motion as much as Mara- that was the fact. _He'd_ made the decision not to let Mara go with him to Mosiin that day. He should have realised that Palpatine would be wary because of the incredible Force disturbance that morning- that he would be looking for any breaks from the norm. He should have taken Mara to Mosiin. _He_ should have realised.

But that day - that whole day, from the first hazy light of dawn when he'd sensed the snarling tangle of upheaval which had twisted within the Force, wrenching him from sleep and wrapping him about in its influence, dragging him along in its conversion - that whole day had been an exercise in inevitability; in the absolute will of the Force. He saw that now…

Hindsight was a cruel teacher.

Everything- _everything_ had spiralled from his control with the unstoppable force of the galaxy turning. Every moment, every struggle, every opposition had been like trying to stand in a tornado, like trying to breathe in a sandstorm. Every instant he resisted had felt like _he_ was the dissenting obstruction, the disruptive impediment resisting the unassailable will of the Force, and whatever he did that day, it felt as if he would have been dragged, kicking and screaming, to the same inevitable conclusion.

Fate. Overwhelming, invincible, unassailable.

His thoughts went to Han Solo; to his claim long ago that there was no such thing as fate- that we cut our own paths in this galaxy. A lifetime ago on the Millenium Falcon, arguing with Ben Kenobi… had that really happened - was it ever real?  
So long ago…

His mind wandered to the massive stone hangar at Massassi Temple on Yavin's sanctuary moon; to Han's offer, as Luke had been preparing to take his X-Wing up against the first Death Star. That fateful moment that had changed his life, wrenched him from comfortable anonymity to centre-stage in a conflict which had been raging before he was born.

Palpatine had once told Luke that it had been a small price to pay; the destruction of the first Death Star in exchange for flushing the last of the Jedi out of hiding.

It could have been so very different.

"_Why don't you come with me? You're pretty good in a fight- I could use you."_

Knowing all that he did now, nine years of struggle and strife on his shoulders, too many deaths to remember crowding the haunted shadows… would he have gone?

Should he have?

Would it have been better if he'd just turned his back on the galaxy and gone? Disappeared into a small, insignificant life. Just walked away- from the Force, from the Rebellion; from everything?

Should he have gone?

What had he truly accomplished, paid for in blood and sweat and tears? He'd removed Palpatine only to become him. Stepped into that breach and taken on that mantle as Emperor simply to stop anyone else from doing the same. And now, in this place, confronted by the necessities of maintaining the peace... was he so very different?

All the intentions he'd had, all the hopes which had held him together for so long... they remained as unattainable as ever, and every step he tried to take towards them seemed to increase that distance - save one path. The easy, effortless, path; to simply take - to power through objections and protests, to grind them underfoot with the authority and the capabilities at his disposal. It could gain him all he wanted... but he had no idea, none at all, whether that was a good thing or a bad one.

Because as much as it whispered every minute of every day, it was not the Light which hunched impatiently and skulked broodingly, searching for focus, eager for existence, for the slightest grounds to be invoked and directed. Potent and persuasive, offering everything - the easy path, the utmost achievement, limitless power. It was not the Light which called him on, one moment whispering and coercing in silent voice, the next howling and demanding, so much like his old Master. It was not the Light which Palpatine had entrenched and engrained with brutal, relentless, pitiless precision.

Every moment of every day had become a struggle to maintain equity, and he had no-one left to turn to for guidance, no-one left to help categorize or rationalize, to offer any kind of perspective, good or bad. There were times when he would have taken either to ease the storm within - had done in the past. He was lost in that storm and he knew it. But knowing one was lost didn't grant one the ability to find the way, and he had been dragged so far from the light by Palpatine that he didn't even know where to look anymore; didn't know where to begin his search- or even how.

If he just knew what needed to be done… but all was Darkness and it was here by his own making. He had no right to turn to the Light and ask compassion or clemency. No right to look to it for aid.

And yet it hadn't abandoned him. And despite the turmoil within, he wouldn't abandon it- couldn't. Whatever the price, he would pay it to simply touch some part of himself that was not smothered and stifled and slave to Palpatine's Darkness.

But that Darkness pressed in and pressed down like deep, dark water, always looking for weakness; for any ingress, no matter how small. It twisted frustration into anger and anger into actions all too easily and the act was done before he'd even begun to think of the consequences. And still it seeped in, feeding on his frustration and disillusionment and doubt.

And sometimes he was just too tired to fight anymore.

He glanced past the small holo-emitter to the open doors where the rain patted gently down onto the balcony beyond, and all he saw was a prison and all he heard was the deafening sound of his own isolation, a profound, kinetic stillness that ripped through his mind and sat in his soul like the weight of the galaxy.  
And all he felt was tired. Endlessly, mind-numbingly tired, so that all he could do was sit in the still solitude of the stately, imposing room and stare into the rain, watching the shadows crawl up the buildings as the darkness closed in.

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	4. Chapter 4

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**CHAPTER TWO**

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Talon Karrde stood alone on the wide balcony that stretched the length of the impressive White Room, one of the many grand reception rooms in the elite habitation towers of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant, enjoying that enviable view, and with it the self-satisfied kick that came with the knowledge that he, the man who had less than a decade ago taken control of a small, unconventional group of smugglers and information-brokers, was presently stood in the private apartments of the Emperor, no less.

The temptation to wander casually along the extent of the pale stone balcony to it's far end, and what he knew was the inner sanctum of the new Emperor, was an almost irresistible urge to a self-confessed information-junkie. But Karrde wasn't so stupid as to think that his invitation stretched nearly as far as the long balcony, and he had a feeling that those ceremonial guards who stood just inside the doors of the opulent White Room behind him may well prove to be a little more than decorative if he pushed his welcome.

New Emperor; barely a year in and everyone was still watching, waiting to see what he'd do next. Ironically, many old clients had turned to Karrde's organization for information, though none knew of course of his long-standing working arrangement with said Emperor, forged before he was even Heir Apparent, freshly promoted to Commander in Chief of the Core Fleet. Karrde had politely declined most of course, but he was still operating a business and had taken a few jobs which wouldn't represent a conflict of interest should the Emperor find out. On a personal level, Karrde suspected the Emperor was an accommodating man, but he'd always made it clear that business was business – and when your business was running an Empire, you tended to have a lot of weight to throw around should you need it.

Not that such was his style; he'd always been, to Karrde's mind, a perfect example of that old tenet of understated authority; "_Talk quietly and carry a big stick.". _

A noise in room behind him brought Karrde's head around and the tall, dark-haired Aide Karrde knew to be Wez Reece strode forward. The reason Karrde knew him to be Wez Reece was that three years ago, the then-Commander of the Core Fleet had charged Karrde with getting every scrap of information he could on the man, who had already been the Commander's Aide for three years. It probably wasn't even that he didn't trust the man, it was just that – well, business was business.

Reece stepped back, indicating for Karrde to follow, leading him down wide, lofty corridors and across a massive central hallway with an immense stained-glass cupola, then into another imposing room, this time with no guards at the door. Surprisingly really, because when he entered, it was to see the Emperor stepping round from behind a wide, polished desk, nodding once to Karrde, who dropped his head, bringing his heels together in as near as he came to a military bow. He probably should make more of an effort, but the Emperor had never seemed the type to call someone on such things, and he didn't today either.

"Karrde." He acknowledged simply as Reece left, and the smuggler nodded again, trying hard to resist the temptation to study what was clearly a private office in the sprawling Perlemian Apartments, widely known in Intel circles to be the Emperor's private residence within the mile-square bulk of the massive Palace.

It had, surprisingly, turned out to be business as usual between Karrde and the new Emperor, very little changing between his time as Heir and his accession to the throne – but then there was very little time between the two yet either. Not that anyone was mourning Palpatine's death... still, Karrde would have given six month's profits to find out what had really happened, because it sure as hell wouldn't have been the official line of 'sudden death after a short illness'.

"Nice place you have here." Karrde deadpanned, "Very roomy."

"It gets a little cold in winter." The Emperor replied in kind.

"Yes, I would imagine the bills get a little high. Fortunately you own an Empire, so I assume that's not a problem."

"I run an Empire – I don't own it."

Karrde wondered if the younger man knew just how much he'd given away of his own perception of both himself and his position here in that quick reply. Possibly so, because he moved the conversation on very quickly, leaning back against his desk, arms and ankles crossed, "I need a few clean ships – high-status inter and exo-atmospheric shuttles with clean civilian histories; no links to either myself or you."

Karrde frowned, "I can fly three clicks from here and buy you two of those from a legitimate dealer."

"These need upgraded weapons and shields, well-masked; nothing visible. And decent drives. Plus spotless ID's; they can't have been re-registered or transferred in the last year. Their ID needs to have military exemption."

"Anything else?" This was turning into quite a list.

"Less than two years old, top-of-the-line civilian versions but nothing too flashy. Something old money would buy; middle-aged executive types…" The Emperor turned mismatched eyes upwards as he ran through his list, "No, nothing else…. Mini-bar maybe?"

Karrde raised heavy eyebrows, "Very funny. Permanently or just a loan?"

"Just a loan. Short-term."

"Just to clarify – for pricing, you understand – is this like the short-term loan I gave you for Bothawuii?"

The Emperor actually smiled at that, looking far too young for his station, if only for a second. "I lose two ships in the whole time I've known you, and you can't let it drop."

Karrde felt his own lip twitch but held it, affecting injured pride. "Well they were very good ships."

"And as I remember, I gave you two very good ships in return – in fact I'd swear I saw one of them crossing a picket-line in the Bajic Sector on security footage a just few weeks ago."

Karrde's pause was just a second too long; "I was dropping off a book I borrowed from an old friend."

The Emperor tilted his head, "Really? Well he must be running quite a library down there, because I'm told you made the trip eleven times in the last week."

What was interesting was that just seven months ago, the new Emperor had very considerately provided Karrde with a high-level Imperial recognition code which meant that his ships could now fly anywhere without interference or challenge from Imperial forces. As much as he worked for the Emperor, Karrde had never made any secret of the fact that he still had other clients, yet the code had been handed over with no proviso's as to where and when it could be used. As simply as that, Karrde had been given the ultimate prize which every smuggling organization dreamed of, the smuggler's equivalent of a krayt dragon's jewel; free, unhindered passage. Anywhere.

Of course, he didn't use it all the time; presumably the code was unique to his organization, and if his ships broadcast it constantly, Karrde may as well provide the Emperor with a map and a schedule of everywhere he went and everyone he saw. Karrde didn't for a moment believe that was why he'd been given the code, but despite his youth, the Emperor was hardly naïve; he knew damn well that if he wanted to keep tabs on Karrde's organisation then this easy enticement would be the ideal way. Nothing personal of course, but business was business.

What was _really_ interesting however, was that on those particular deliveries, Karrde hadn't even used it. So he chose his next words with care, "I wasn't aware that the Emperor took such a grass-roots-level approach to policing his Empire."

"I don't, but apparently Black Sun take a very grass-roots approach to dealing with its competitors."

Black Sun; the crime syndicate who'd made their ascent and held their monopoly by serving Palpatine. apparently Karde's little group had been doing a tad too well and come to their notice, though they clearly didn't know it was at the Emperor's behest. "They sold you the information?"

"They gave it free of charge. A good-will gesture, they said. I'm guessing they don't like a little competition."

"Yes, they don't exactly welcome a free trade environment." Karrde deadpanned. "Did they quote us by name?"

"They quoted your name, your organization and the present location of your main base. I got the distinct impression that if I'd asked for your shoe size they'd have told me that and where you bought your last three pairs of boots."

"Interesting." Recognizing another group's ships was one thing, but base locations were something else. Karrde took a great deal of care that his organization stayed below the radar, and if someone in Black Sun had his main base co-ordinates, then that meant he had a mole.

Which was of course what the Emperor had so indirectly highlighted.

"The Valiant will pass by the supplied location in another week to do a security sweep." the Emperor continued, "I trust that's sufficient time?"

To clear a main base? Barely, particularly given that chances were, Karrde would be taking Black Sun's mole with them. But having received this information, the Emperor had to be seen to be acting it, or risk his ties to Karrde's organization being discovered.  
There was no particular risk to himself of course; it was Karrde who would be in the crosshairs; Xizor didn't take well to anyone muscling in on his territory. The fact was that the Emperor could just as easily use Black Sun for all those delicate little jobs that he'd prefer not to be made public, just as his predecessor had, but he'd stuck with Karrde. He'd made the deal, the commitment, and he'd stuck with it.

Which said a lot about the man, Karrde felt – and maybe a little about himself.

He nodded decisively, "One week will be fine. Where do you want the shuttles delivered?"

The Emperor considered, all business again, "The SD Peremptory. It's touring the Core Systems at the moment – I presume you can find it – I need the shuttles in the next five days."

"Whilst we're bugging out of our main base?"

"Think of it as two less ships to worry about."

"I always worry about ships that I lend to you." Karrde said dryly.

"Really?" The Emperor flashed another smile which made him look far too young, "Well I suppose one of us has to."

.

.

.

Han rounded the corner into the long run of Intel rooms onboard Home-One, always a hive of activity. He always felt just a little uneasy here – as if he were under scrutiny. Old reflexes, he supposed. Leia glanced back from her position in Tag Massa's office, the privacy screens not engaged so that the walls were clear glass. Tag too glanced up as he neared, her stoic, neutral expression giving nothing away as he entered.

"'Morning, ladies." Probably shouldn't have said that; now he'd got their backs up and he'd only just walked in the door… it was that shrewd look in Tag Massa's eye that always made him double-think himself. Ah, what the hell; "Looking particularly cheery today."

Leia ignored the remark and Massa simply raised an eyebrow, calculating brown eyes remaining on him, watching for a reaction as Leia spoke.

"We – or rather I – had a communication this morning from _Ghost_."

It was the name that Intel had given the unknown Imperial informer who regularly sent information Leia's way, because despite all their attempts to tease out his identity, the mysterious sympathiser had remained resolutely hidden. Still, he'd passed on consistently reliable information throughout the last four years, and both Massa and Leia trusted him. For himself, Han needed to see this particular ghost before he could believe. Old habits died hard.

"What'd he say?"

"He wants to meet." Leia said, to the point as ever. "He has information. Something he needs to pass over face to face."

They'd always figured, based on the kind of information Ghost supplied, that he was a military officer, probably in the Core Fleet. He wouldn't be the first to be passing on information, though they'd had not one new informer since the constitutional reforms. Still, Massa already had five on Intel's books who occasionally sent some nugget her way and Madine had recently cut his own little deal with an unknown informer. But Massa had the names of four of her five informers, and though he denied it, Han suspected Madine also knew his snitch's identity. "Fine. Tell him I'll go."

Leia shook her head, "It has to be me."

Han almost laughed, "Yeah, right." It didn't seem so funny when no-one else seemed to get the joke. "Seriously? You're seriously considering meeting this guy? Why does it have to be you?"

"Because I'm the one he made contact with. I'm the one he remembered me from the Senate, when I represented Alderaan."

"I don't mean originally, I mean now – but while we're at it, what the hell kind of Imperial officer _ever_ attended the Senate at all?"

"The kind who's aware of the greater picture Han." Leia said, "The kind who was questioning the actions of his superiors and the tenets of the Empire… the kind who may well have decided to inform on them – if he could find someone he trusted to pass that information on to."

"I doubt very much that he actually ever attended the Senate," Massa said evenly. Her natural inclination was always to have reservations about everybody, a point all Intel officers seemed to share. Leia turned, and Massa tempered her words with a shrug, "More likely he listened to the news on the HoloNet like everybody else. Profiling say he may well be an Alderaanian survivor, which would explain his choice of contact. He's made a few references over the years..."

"Thranta." Han nodded, of the code-name that Ghost always referred to Leia by, protecting her identity as well as his own, should any message be intercepted.

Massa nodded, "Thranta is one. He's also made oblique reference to Chiniar and Belleau-a-Lir. If he had family on Alderaan it could well have swayed his loyalties or cemented his resolve. We've never actually had bad information from him." Massa admitted cautiously. "He doesn't always have the details but he's never been wrong. It always has a military basis, generally fleet-biased, and we've had two Imperial codes from him in the last year – ones we hadn't broken at the time. The level of clearance he seems to have access to leads Profiles to think he's in Communications, probably a mid-ranking officer. If he is a comm officer, he may well have come across this information and recognized it for what it is."

Han frowned, "What does he have?"

Leia passed the autoreader she was holding, and Han scanned the words quickly – and knew instantly why she'd risk this.

"The full codes." Leia said, "He has a full set of codes for the Patriot."

"He's sure?"

It was Massa who shrugged, her voice neutral. "As I said, he's never sent us bad information before. Out of date, but never inaccurate."

And it was true, Han knew. Sometimes the information Ghost sent was close to the wire in terms of counter-action, but it was never wrong. If he really did have a set of codes…

Still, "Tell him I'll make the meet."

Leia shook her head, "You know he won't trust anyone but me."

Han glanced at Massa, who raised her eyebrows in a silent show of frustration at Leia's insistence, giving the impression that she'd already been through this repeatedly and Leia wasn't budging.

"I've been his contact for four years Han, long before I held this position." Leia insisted, "I've always been his sole contact, he wouldn't trust anybody else, you know that."

He never had. Any attempts to take over the contact by Massa or her Intel agents had been rebuffed. Ghost spoke only to Leia. Short messages, the information a jumble of anything he seemed able to lay his hands on, but always that military slant. And recently, the quality of that information _had_ spoken of a promotion – but not to this level.

Massa was clearly thinking on the same lines. "He shouldn't have this and he knows it. We think he's nervous. This is high-level stuff; if he gets caught with it, even without passing it on, it's treason. I'm guessing he doesn't know who he can trust right now. Leia's worked with him for years, he knows her; he trusts her."

Han glanced back to the autoreader, his own curiosity peaked; if this was real…

"Do you think he could have been discovered and they're stringing him along- that this is some bigger trap?"

Massa shook her head, "It's not the kind of thing the Empire generally get involved in, plus even if they knew Ghost was passing information over, they wouldn't know who to without having taken him in and interrogated him, in which case we're assuming the message wouldn't have had his usual coded reassurances. Standard Imperial procedure is to cut the leak off as soon as possible to minimize damage."

"Even now?" Leia pushed. Shifting methods of operation had begun to seep down through the military even here, with the new Emperor's more direct involvement.

"We've had no instances of it." Massa said with certainty.

Han glanced from Leia to the Intel Chief, knowing her innate caution, "D'you think she should go?"

Massa clenched her jaw, eyes turning back to the reader on the desk as she considered. It was tempting information, for sure, but he knew she'd weigh up the pro's with the con's. "I would say the contact is genuine - that is, we've had no reason to doubt him in four years of contact. He never pushes for any return favours, he's not interested in expanding his contact list here and he never asks for return communications, only a single-line acknowledgment that we've received the information. We've known him for a long time and he's never deviated from that. This is the first time he's ever asked for face-to-face contact and considering what he's carrying, I think the request is valid. That _doesn't_ mean that I think this is advisable."

Leia, as ever, skewered Massa with her directness, "If it were you?"

Massa paused again, hands steepling in deliberation, "If it were me, with this much on the line and a reliable agent with four years' dependability behind him then yes, I'd go. But," she paused, looking to Leia, who was smiling triumphantly, "_But_… I still think we should make at least one more very serious effort to have Ghost meet a representative instead. I'd be prepared to go myself, or have General Madine make contact if he'd consent to either. And if he doesn't, I would want to lay down some very serious precautions."

Han raised his chin as he looked to Leia, knowing right where they should start; "Number one is, I go with you."

.

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	5. Chapter 5

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In the Admiral's ready-room onboard the Super Star Destroyer 'Patriot', Luke could feel his composure fraying, his jaw and his shoulders tightening in subconscious response. Every now and again he stopped, turned away from his desk to make himself take three slow breaths, relax tense muscles, close tired, burning eyes and dissipate mounting frustrations by power of will. For all the good it did him.

Three days into the journey and he hadn't once slept, torn by doubts about the mission he'd set himself, the specifics of which of which he hadn't even admitted to his own staff yet.

Today he'd explain to them- they knew the vague outline anyway; they just didn't realise it was imminent. He would allow a little dissent and a little disquiet about his handling this in person, but he wouldn't be swayed or derailed. The plan, originally initiated when he was Commander-in-Chief of the fleet, was too far gone anyway - which was part of why he hadn't revealed specifics until now; it limited his entourage's responses. He would push it through and dismiss his own private doubts along with the unease of those around him, Luke ordered himself. There was no room for a personal attack of conscience here, and even if there were, one spark would hardly light the darkness.

Swinging his chair about, his eyes wandered to the wide sweep of the viewpane and the blur of kinetic energy which unfolded outside the safe, shielded bubble of the Destroyer, watching blankly the multi-coloured lights of hyperspace twist in rainbow irregularity through the vast tracts of bright white, the radiance of distant stars leaving trailing ghosts of their wake as the Destroyer hurtled past the sluggish speed of light. Watched until the room about him began to shrink to dull darkness by comparison and it burned into his retinas so that he could see it as a diffuse crimson glow when he closed his eyes-

A knock at the door snapped Luke's senses back to the present and he twisted his chair back to his desk, resting his hand on the autoreader there, using the Force to clear his sight and identify who was waiting on the other side of the door, then relaxing slightly as he realised who it was.

"Come."

The door slid back and Hallin stepped forward, sketching a propriety bow before entering with the morning's despatches. Not generally his responsibility Luke knew, but he had probably taken it upon himself to do this today when he realised that Luke hadn't slept again.

Nathan Hallin was one of the trusted few, having known him since Luke had first arrived in Imperial hands following his duel with his father at Bespin. Already one of Lord Vader's private medics onboard his Star Destroyer, Hallin had been charged to treat the battered man whom he believed at the time to be an Imperial spy before, at the old Emperor's command, he had been reassigned as a member of Luke's personal staff. Luke had kept him close ever since, their friendship always effortless, finding a comfortable balance between formal and personal as the situation allowed.

"Good morning," Nathan said, placing the sheaf of hard-copy documents and their corresponding data chips on a rare patch of bare surface to the edge of Luke's desk, "Despatches, I think."

"Thanks, Nathan." Luke acknowledged without looking up, making a show of being lost in his work though he doubted the sharp medic was fooled.

"And breakfast."

That brought Luke's head up, "What?"

A lieutenant-adjutant from Luke's own staff was walking in with a tray, bowing politely.

"Did I order it?" Luke prompted, his scowl creasing the scar above his eyebrow.

"No, but if I didn't arrange it Reece would have my head." The slight medic grinned, speaking of Wez Reece, Luke's long-time Aide, co-conspirator and major-domo.

Now Luke couldn't help but smile at the medic's claim, "What did I _not_ order?" he asked dryly as a small folding table was set by the desk.

"Cadin," Nathan announced of the grilled grain-bread, with an undeserved and overly-enthusiastic flourish, "And fruit."

Luke raised his eyebrows as the adjutant bowed and left, "That was uncharacteristically healthy of me."

"Well, perhaps it was because you knew your medic would be in the room and you wanted to impress him with your wholesome eating regime." Hallin continued glibly, "Though I have to say it's not working - I'm onto you and have decided to make it my mission to clean up your diet."

Luke raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but caught up as ever in Nathan's buoyant mood; the medic had an uncanny knack of always knowing the right tack to take. "Did I at least order caff?"

"No you did not, on account of being awake for about three days straight now, as far as I can tell." Hallin mock-chided, comfortable in the Emperor's presence, knowing that his directness and dry sense of humour would amuse, not offend.

"I would think now is the time I'd need it most." Luke said wryly.

Conceding, Hallin bowed slightly. "I'll get some sent up." he acknowledged before backstepping smoothly and leaving, the door sliding quietly closed behind him.

Luke lifted the cover from the tray, moved the food around on the plates, dropped the napkin on it and replaced the cover without eating before turning back to his work. He sat quietly at his desk for a time, head in his hands as he loaded up and read through the day's despatches, making notes and organizing them accordingly.

When he finally lifted his head he paused, holding one hand before his face; it was shaking. He watched it for several seconds, willing it still, before slamming it down hard on the desk in frustration.

.

Now it was past midday, and he still hadn't eaten - he had no stomach for it at the moment.

He was in the large neutral grey boardroom adjacent to his office, tired and wired, in the middle of a long discussion about the morning's despatches with Reece, Hallin, Mara and Commander Clem, Admiral Joss and General Arco both attending by way of holo-connections.

Despatches which had once again reported Moffs Terrin and Kato making their own little powerplays in response to the latest changes to the Military Concessions Act, small as they were. The old guard who had served Palpatine were used to sweeping personal powers and some had not taken well to Luke's reforms – but then he hadn't expected them to.

Carefully implemented to reveal, among other things, the new Emperor's detractors and probable opposition in the military before it became entrenched, the changes had accomplished the task with unexpected efficacy. Still, despite the dissent it had stirred up, it enabled Luke to move forward; he had those whom he considered trustworthy and an undisclosed timetable in his head for removing those he didn't. Because he needed a suitably loyal military and, more unattainably, the backing of the alitist Royal Houses before he began to truly make his presence felt. Already dissent in both these areas had slowed Luke, and Reece constantly fretted at the smallest change for fear that these two major factions might sway the tide of public approval too.

He needed something to unite the three groups, public, political and military. Something which would pull them all into a single accord, enable him to direct all that attention where _he_ chose. Too much of his old Master was left here, shaping people's thoughts and perceptions, but without that one uniting element, Luke couldn't move forward.

The problem was that one or another group constantly forced Luke's hand in some unanticipated way and shot his timetable to pieces, and presently it seemed to be the military's turn. He had already _removed_ one Moff last month; to eliminate another two so soon was unacceptable- it implied a lack of control of one's military and left far too much of a power vacuum to be easily controlled.  
Luke let out a silent laugh at that; his Master would have been proud of him.

"…plus we have no reason to believe at this time that they're working with any outside agent or passing on any sensitive information." Arco, Luke's Intelligence Chief continued. "We presently have automated and sentient tails on both of them, so should that change, we'll know."

Luke sighed, considering. He was already working to manoeuvre those he trusted into positions of power in both the military and state politics without too much of an upheaval which would only shake the whole precarious structure even more. He'd needed another year; two at the most, to set everything in place before coming to power… and his father alive.

"Well, realistically, to remove them now is impractical."

Admiral Joss nodded, the holo static making his voice hiss slightly as he spoke, "I would say we need a wait of at least another month before we could remove even one of them."

Reece shifted in his chair; "We could limit their effect by separating them- reassign one of them to the Core Fleet. The next tour of the Inner Systems is due to start in a week or so."

Which might not be a bad idea, Luke considered; it might also drive a wedge between them for one Moff to wonder why the other had been reassigned to what was generally considered to be the more prestigious fleet. He nodded slowly, turning to Arco, "Who would you say is the most ambitious of the two?"

The Intel Chief glanced down at his autoreader though he clearly already knew, "Moff Terrin is well known to feel that he's been passed over for Grand Moff several times."

Luke turned to Reece, "Reassign Kato to the Core Fleet. When's the next State Dinner?"

Reece frowned, taken unawares by the left-field question, "That you'll be attending? I think… that would be the annual re-opening of the Colony Systems' Executive Assembly in three week's time. The relevant military, Ambassadors and Royal Houses will attend."

"Send him an invitation. Assign him a suite at the Palace for the night of the Dinner." Even more than they had been with Palpatine, such exceptional invitations and permissions were public statements of recognition and favour.

Clem, head of the Emperor's Private Guard and officially responsible for his safety, moved uneasily in his seat but as usual said nothing, only logged away the necessity to up the guard whilst Kato was in the Palace.

Mara frowned, wondering what Luke was up to. "You want to get close enough to read his mind?"

"No." Luke replied easily. Among this select group, the specifics of his abilities were well known, as was his willingness to use them to further his own ends, but it wasn't this Luke was intending right now. "Let's see how solid that little collaboration of theirs really is- see if it can withstand a little resentful friction."

"One final thing." Arco added before the meeting broke up; "Black Sun have contacted us again on their old channels. They claim to have information relating to another assassination plot."

Which would make it three this month, Luke reflected; a pity - he'd been hoping to bring the figure down from last month. Still, not too bad; his first month in power there had been eleven- and those were the plots the newly-restructured Intel department _knew_ about.

Clem and Nathan Hallin both sat up a little straighter, Clem the stoic professional and Nathan always nervy about such things, "From?"

"They're trying to trace the contact back now. The lead was from an agent on Corellia." Arco said, clearly uncomfortable that he didn't yet have the answer.

"We need to lock that down, Sir." Clem said evenly, "Do we have a date- even a rough window?"

"Presently no." Arco admitted, "The message only came in about five hours ago."

"Why didn't the Guard receive a copy immediately?" Luke interceded on Clem's behalf, knowing it was what would be going through the staunch man's head though he wouldn't voice it out loud here.

"I'll check on that, Sir. If it's a break in communications we'll iron it out."

"Do so. Let me know what it was."

"Sir." Arco nodded in acknowledgment, contrite but not nervous, knowing that neither his job nor his reputation were on the line here; it was simply a flaw being addressed and corrected.

Still, at least he'd felt secure enough to come out with what little information he did have, rather than wait until he had everything for fear of chastisement, Luke reflected. Within this small, trusted entourage, he needed to foster complete confidence, constructive dispute and disagreement not only allowed but encouraged – though not necessarily accepted or incorporated.

Hallin settled back slightly and voiced the thought that Luke knew was coming, "I wonder whether it's entirely advisable to go to Corellia next month as planned."

"Yes, it is." Luke said firmly. "We don't change plans under duress. Ever."

"Besides, chances are it's just a passing piece of information." Reece assured. "It could well relate to one of the existing plans we're aware of."

"Or it could be Black Sun trying to re-establish their previous position with the new Emperor." Mara added, ever-suspicious.

As with many other latecomers, Black Sun had waited too long before risking association with the new Heir, Luke maintaining his own pre-existing arrangement with Karrde's far smaller group, and he wasn't about to break that unspoken contract.

Although he wasn't included in his official entourage, Luke still regarded Talon Karrde as dependable and trustworthy, with his own code of ethics and honour- which put Karrde about as close as anyone got to him these days. Another long-lasting lesson from Palpatine which had been carved into Luke's soul with his usual ruthless efficiency; friendship in any form was a weakness waiting to be exploited by those around you. The few that were left had already been in place by the time Palpatine's manipulations had taken hold and even these final few his Master had used to prove his point again and again. Some he had ripped away, some Luke had eventually given willingly, though he always sold the release for a high price.  
Some – the few, the oldest, those he had truly trusted – they had done the most damage of all. Palpatine had set the scene, but they had taught the lessons…

Betrayal was a harsh teacher, but one never forgot. Or forgave.

Luke tuned back in to the conversation as it wound down, Reece leading as usual, all business.

"… but I think until we have more information we should hold fire on any reaction. General Arco, can we have a dedicated unit on this?"

"Already assigned, Sir. As soon as anything comes in I'll circulate it."

Reece, always chair at such meetings, glanced one last time to his autoreader, "Then I think we're done for today?"

As ever, he looked back to Luke for approval, and Luke nodded, standing, "Thank-you gentlemen." He glanced immediately to Mara, who raised an arched eyebrow at him but didn't correct him.

As the group made to move out, Luke spoke again, "Wez, Nathan?"

Both men paused and stepped aside, recognising the request to remain. Mara too remained, but then whatever else her relationship to the Emperor, her position as Luke's personal bodyguard – completely independent of Commander Clem's dedicated Guard Unit which was responsible for the Emperor's safety – had never been relinquished.

Luke waited until the door had closed before he continued, "I have confirmation from Argot that Leia Organa has decided to meet _Ghost's_ request."

He didn't bother to mention that he'd had this information for over two weeks- they'd work it out.

Reece stepped forward, suddenly attentive, "Where?"

"On the commercial staging post at Devaron's magnetic pole. It's nondescript, inconspicuous ground on the edge of the Core Fleet's jurisdiction. Presumably she's picked it because she thinks the static interference there will buy her a little added insurance."

"What made her finally bite?" Hallin asked.

Under the guise of a fictional Imperial informer, Luke had been trying long before he'd held power to get Leia Organa to step out of the safety of her troops to be in a predictable place at a specific time, just as he had done with Mothma a few years earlier. She'd been impressively wily – though she apparently had one weakness;

"I gave her the one bait she couldn't resist- me. She thinks her informer is going to hand over a set of memory chips containing the algorithm code which will give class-one access to the SSD Patriot. Presumably she thinks it'll buy her a chance at the Emperor."

There was a laconic irony to Luke's tone and Hallin knew that he'd be finding dry amusement in the fact that the Rebel leader was about to get close to the Emperor far sooner than she'd intended. "Be careful what you wish for." he said wryly. "So who does she _think_ she's meeting?"

Luke shrugged, "I never gave a name, but everything I've given her to date should suggest it's a mid-level technical officer from the Core Fleet. I let her name the venue herself and it's within the time-frame and standard Duty Schedule of nine Core Fleet Star Destroyers, so she obviously thinks that's the case. As long as nothing's visibly wrong when she lands, she'll believe it safe."

"When will you try to get her to hold a summit of the joint heads of Imperial and Rebel leadership?" Reece pushed, eager to move what had been a painfully slow plan forward, but Luke only smiled at his impatience.

"I said she was an idealist Wez, not that she was stupid. I won't even mention it for the first few meetings – ideally I'd like it to appear her idea. I'll just keep the talk to vague promises this time; I need to pull her in, make her come back. Once I have her used to coming back and nothing untoward happening, I can start nudging her towards bringing others with her."

Before he'd even gone after Mothma Luke had made contact with Leia, posing as a rebel sympathiser and hinting at Alderaanian roots whilst feeding her an assortment of truthful, if carefully selected information, his ultimate gain always to enable a face-to-face meeting.

When he'd eventually been forced to admit this to Hallin and Reece almost a year later, in the claim of security he'd been able to pass off a relatively sketchy explanation that he intended to use her as a connection to gain him access to the leaders of the Rebellion, based on the fact that he knew her personally and could predict and therefore manipulate her.

Now his accession to Emperor had complicated things considerably on far too many levels, and Luke had been forced to modify a fictitious plan which he had never intended to use in the first place, whilst still ensuring that the new front remained flexible enough to serve his true needs.  
Still, he found it suitably ironic that Palpatine's relentless manipulations and constant _lessons_ had a shaping influence which would aid him in his final revenge on his old Master. Because despite what he had told those closest to him, Luke's eventual goal bore only a passing resemblance to the plan he spoke out loud, even here among the loyal elite.

Trust remained the one luxury that even an Emperor could not afford.

.

"… so we need to have a full unit there and hidden at least a full week before." Reece was thinking out loud, committing the facts to memory so they could be passed on to Clem, nothing of this recorded anywhere by Luke's standing command. "Probably break a few select units of the 701st down and separate them off; lose them in the general workforce."

"Not too many." Luke warned, aware of how overly-protective they could be. None of them liked Luke engaging in any genuine action now, military or otherwise, but it simply wasn't his style to stand at a safe distance and direct; he preferred getting his hands dirty. Fortunately no-one actually had the power anymore to say no, though Luke knew that Clem, Wez and Nathan were playing a long-term strategy to slowly wean him off such things. "Argot said they'll have about a dozen men go down to the staging post with Organa. A tramp freighter will be used to get to Devaron with a crew of about sixty, including the task force."

Over the years Argot had remained a carefully-managed commodity, used as little as possible, and when Luke did utilise the information provided, he always took care to disperse and deflect any blame, taking any opportunity presented to muddy the waters of Argot's identity. Despite this, the information smuggled out wasn't always perfect, and General Madine in particular being a loose cannon with a habit of running his own private campaigns using his hand-picked Special Ops team, which to date Luke had been unable to infiltrate - a fact that particularly irked him because whilst still with the Alliance, he had served as one of Madine's S.O. pilots and probably knew over half the men in the unit personally.

Reece considered, "Two units assigned to the staging post then, and another four satellite units within close-reaction time."

"I think that's overkill." Luke dismissed, "We're not trying to actually catch anybody and we don't need to overpower them; everyone who arrives will leave unimpeded. A single unit in the staging post will be ample."

"One unit in the staging post is insufficient protection and you know it." Hallin said firmly, stepping in to back Reece up, aware that the troopers who accompanied Luke to the surface would be in effect his bodyguard. Things like this were as much a struggle as they had always been, finally coming down to little more than a haggling match in which Halllin and Reece always presented a united front.

"Fine. You can place two units in the staging post but no others on the surface. If they're close enough to react then they're close enough to show up on any detailed scans done of the area and if they're far enough away that they can't be picked up on the scans then they're no use to me anyway."

"Detailed scans won't be possible with Devaron's interference." Reece countered.

"Neither will contact with any secondary satellite units for the same reason, without a landline." Luke rationalized, turning Reece's logic back on him. "Two close units, broken up in the workforce, are more practical."

Hallin was about to launch into one more round of negotiations but Reece surprised him by nodding agreement, "Two units it is. And a Star Destroyer in orbit, presumably. If you're supposedly a fleet officer, it's logical that you have to come from a Destroyer."

"We're en-route to the Peremptory now." Luke said, casually dropping the bombshell that they were already in the middle of this mission and burying it in a rush of further information. "I'll transfer over and travel the rest of the way incognito. I've already spoken to Karrde; I have two untraceable and upgraded civilian shuttles waiting on the Peremptory, one of which I'll take down to the surface on the day. the second can contain a mix of genuine officers and members of the 701st. We have ten days to make arrangements – I'm assuming that you have no problems making them en-route."

"Wait a minute." Mara spoke out first, "We're going there _now_?!"

"We're on our way to rendezvous with the Peremptory now, yes." Luke said evenly, confirming just how imminent this whole plan was then immediately pushing forward without further comment on the fact, "The Patriot will make a short stop for the transfer then continue down the Corellian Trade Spine with Reece and Hallin remaining here on-board to continue the pretence that I'm also still here. I'll transfer over to the Peremptory incognito and travel on to Devaron on her standard tour of duty, which will bring her into Devaron's orbit in ten days time."

"How long have you known?" Mara asked, far too experienced to be fazed by the burst of purposely digressive information, green eyes afire.

"A short while." Luke allowed, giving no specifics simply because he wouldn't be called on any decision.

"This is… very short notice, Excellency." Reece rallied, his tone both frustrated and official. "We need to make arrangements at Devaron, there are back-ups to be…"

"There are three units of the 701st already in orbit around Devaron onboard the unmarked freighter Vireo, ready to deploy." Luke said of his own regiment, which he always utilized in such missions, still sweeping over the fact that all this had been done without consultation by forcing Reece to deal now with the details of the mission rather than address the lack of notification. "As just agreed, two of them will be dispersed in the station. You'll need to check the station's personnel and place them as you see fit, Wez; liaise with Mara on that. We rendezvous with the Peremptory in one day's time, and whilst we're in realspace you can relay all further arrangements. As I said, you'll need to remain onboard the Patriot to continue the charade that I'm here. If you wish, you can co-ordinate the arrangements from the Patriot, but I need it to be a long way from here before you drop into realspace- I don't want to scare them off."

"I see." Reece said coolly, aware that the Emperor was clearly not going to address their lack of notification. "I'll make arrangements; I'd like us to be in realspace and in contact with the Peremptory when the mission is active. I'd prefer to control this mission myself, even if it's remotely, if that's acceptable."

"That's fine." Luke acknowledged, the moment dealt with as far as he was concerned.

Everyone fell to momentary silence, in which Luke stared unabashed at some detail on his autoreader; this kind of powerplay was second nature to him now, even here among friends. The silence stretched, unbroken.

"………… So – sorry, this meeting is ten days away?" Hallin clarified, always appearing a few minutes behind in such conversations, though Luke often suspected he did it on purpose just to pull Luke back to the root of the issue.

"Ten days, yes. As I said, the 701st are presently awaiting Reece's orders to position them, and I have a choice of clean civilian shuttles to take down to the surface."

"And they're…. _already_ in the Peremptory?" Hallin said mildly, underlining just how long ago Luke must have known about this in order to make such arrangements. There was no censure in his voice, just a wry unwillingness to have the wool pulled over his eyes.

"Yes." Luke said simply, gazing evenly at the medic.

The silence lasted for a few seconds before Hallin brightened; "So you could actually take the third detachment of the 701st in the shuttle with you just in…"

"No." Luke said, though there was tolerant exasperation in his voice at Hallin's tenacity. "Any security who will be there, will be there a week in advance. If the Rebels have an ounce of sense they'll scan every shuttle coming down from the Peremptory whilst they're still in high orbit. I don't want to shield the shuttles and have them wonder why – I don't want anything out of place"

"Take Mara." Hallin said firmly, "When you get to the surface the interference means you'll have no comm contact unless you happen to be near a landline- I'd just be happier if you had someone with you."

Luke set his head to one side, "What exactly do you think Mara can do that I can't?"

"Aside from double your arsenal, presumably." Mara countered dryly, confident in her own abilities- but then it was with good reason.

"This has nothing to do with ability." Nathan didn't say more, but then he didn't need to. Luke would know exactly what was on his mind; that he was, as ever, considering the man, not the Sith.

Luke had after all faced down Palpatine, a Sith Master- _that_ was his physical capability now; he was, quite simply, unsurpassed. The fact was that skilled as Mara undoubtedly was, she wasn't Sith-trained, so there was in truth very little she could accomplish that Luke wasn't capable of with one arm tied behind his back. Save one thing; Mara wouldn't be taking any emotional baggage with her into a dangerous situation.

This would be the first time that Luke had spoken to Leia Organa since he had very first been brought to the Emperor six years ago. Since Organa had betrayed him; carried back the counterfeit information that had turned the Rebel Alliance against Luke and left him imprisoned, abandoned and isolated, to face Palpatine's wrath alone.

And despite Luke's claims – beliefs even – to the contrary, there was surely still some spark there, to Nathan's mind. Why else would Luke have put off telling them that this mission was finally going ahead? In not telling them, he'd avoided having to look too closely himself, which obviously made him so uneasy that he'd already lost three night's sleep over it.

Luke himself had admitted to Nathan more than once that he and Leia Organa had been close friends, and the simple fact that Luke had invested so much time in directing her course since long before Palpatine died, picking her specifically for this role and even ensuring she escaped custody at Bothawuii and then again over Coruscant... such things spoke for themselves as far as Nathan was concerned. Luke had risked his neck and Palpatine's wrath to get Organa out when she had been an easy target caught in an Imperial trap over Coruscant, the Emperor close enough to watch Luke's every move. He had later claimed it was to protect this plan, but had it been anybody else, Nathan wondered if Luke would have reacted so extremely… or whether he would have simply let the Emperor's trap play out and edited his own plans accordingly when the dust had settled.

Luke had his reasons for naming Organa as the linchpin of this plan of course, and they seemed valid to Nathan; that he knew her personally, which meant he could predict her and therefore manipulate her made her the perfect candidate, Hallin couldn't deny it. But Luke was a master of bending the facts to suit his needs, a lesson hard learned under duress beneath the watchful attention of the old Emperor. Reece, ever the soldier, saw the logistics and the possible security threats to the Emperor, because when he looked at Luke, that was what he saw; he saw _the Emperor_. Hallin saw the man, the result of a long, close friendship. He had been there when no-one else had; had known Luke longer than anyone else, even Mara. And he had always seen the man, strengths and flaws both.

Everyone else may be moving comfortably along, confident in Luke's assurances of the greater picture, but Hallin knew that there was more going on here, though he'd never say so out loud. If Luke was keeping things from them then it was for a good reason, and Hallin had faith - he had faith in the _man_, not the image he projected for others.

Now, Luke stared at him for long seconds and Hallin tried not to blink before those mismatched eyes… was he reading Hallin's mind? Or did he already know exactly what Hallin meant in asking that Luke take Mara with him.

"Fine." Luke acquiesced, standing and so and effectively bringing an end to the discussion, everyone else forced to do likewise – despite the reduction of such ingrained traditions, to sit in the Emperor's presence whilst he was stood remained an unthinkable breach in etiquette. "Mara, you'll come down to the surface with me. Take the second shuttle and we'll meet in the base. I'll try not to let it get too boring for you."

"I'll bring a book." Mara countered dryly.

.

.

.

Reece had entered the turbolift, playing the meeting over and over in his head, before he finally spoke out to Hallin. "Do you think there are things he isn't telling us?"

Nathan turned, glancing up, his manner comfortable and familiar, both with Wez and with Luke. "Of course- but if he's not telling us it's with good reason, I imagine."

"I worry." Wez said bluntly.

"That?"

"The changes – to the constitution. They're too… lenient." At Hallin's pointed silence, Wez added, "The backlash was inevitable, and I think it's not over yet. It could easily destabilize us."

"I'm sure he won't let it come to that. Besides, it was his intent all along to incite a reaction." Hallin said cautiously, not too sure of this himself.  
Because Reece was right; Luke could have accomplished the same ends with a less extreme approach – which left him wondering just what Luke was really up to.

"I think he made the changes believing them to be less extreme than they were." Wez said diplomatically. When Hallin remained silent Wez finally gave up some part of the truth, testing the water, "He thought them… right. He believed there'd be a backlash from the military because it restricted their powers, however lightly, but he thought that everyone else would just view them as the _right_ thing to do – because he did."

"You think he's wrong?" Hallin prompted.

"I think he'll continue to implement these reforms - more so if opposition were to settle. I fear this is the tip of the iceberg."

Hallin dived into the thick of it, unused to Wez tiptoeing round him like this, "You think he's _too_ lenient. Too progressionist."

"I must admit some of his views are… unanticipated."

"Do you want Palpatine back?"

"No, of course not."

"You said yourself Palpatine had served his purpose, had his time. The Empire was ready for a new course."

"Looking for a more _moderate_ course– not to be disassembled entirely."

"You know he won't do that. I think things will stabilize and the changes he'll make will be for the greater good… and I happen to think he's right." Hallin said firmly, "Much of the Empire's old constitution was questionable, some of it grossly unfair."

"That's treason." Wez said calmly.

"It's fact. And soon there'll be reforms in place which will make it possible to say such things in public."

Wez straightened, "Who told you that?"

"Nobody." Hallin said, "But I'd bet a month's wages that it'll be fact within two years. Probably sooner."

_And that doesn't worry you?_ Wez thought. The Empire was slipping away already. Being rewritten a line at a time by the new Emperor whom Wez had thought he'd known so well. And rightly or wrongly, Hallin clearly intended to stand by him as he did so.

There'd be no help here - but there were other avenues to explore.

.

Luke sighed as Hallin and Reece had made their polite withdrawal, bowing despite the fact that he was turned away from them now, gazing dispassionately out into the ever-shifting tumult of hyperspace.

Hearing their voices fade as they set off down the corridor beyond, already deep in discussion, Luke slumped his shoulders and lowered his head, hand against it as he closed his burning eyes and rubbed at his temple, turning all this around in his mind as he considered, looking for answers, for actions and possible counteractions. For solutions. Everything he needed was here, somewhere. He just needed to put all the pieces together…

Mara's fingers brushing through his hair made him start slightly; he'd been paying so little attention that he'd thought she'd left with Reece and Hallin when he'd dismissed them all, but then Mara observed few protocols, even publicly.

She smiled, the slightest hint of uneasy doubt shadowing green eyes before, reaching up to flick long, loose curls of rich flame-red hair back with casual grace, she stepped close to him and stood on tip-toe, hand to his chest as she reached up and kissed him lightly, her ruby lips brushing against the old scar on his cheek.

Shorter than Luke by a headheight, petite and fine-boned, she still somehow managed to project a powerhouse of capability, her confidence rolling from her in waves. But then people needed to have a healthy dose of self-confidence to live their lives around a Sith, Luke supposed – or wilful stubbornness and no option, as he'd had with Palpatine.

"You look tired." she observed stepping back, emerald eyes calculating.

"I'm fine." Luke said distantly, turning away.

"Actually I was being kind." Mara said at his dismissal of her concern, "You look terrible."

He didn't turn, but Mara could hear the dry humour in his voice. "Thank-you... you look wonderful."

"That's because I sleep at night." Mara said, refusing to be pushed off-course, "When did you last do so?"

And right there, in that passing statement, Mara recognized a summing up of their strained relationship for the last year since his father's death. Because she actually had no idea. They were still close, closer than any mere friendship, but since that fateful day, Luke had slept alone.

It had been a subtle avoidance… just for a few days when he came out of the medi-bay. Then just up until the inauguration. Then a little while longer, until everything settled and the pressure eased. And the months went by…

She knew Luke felt he'd been betrayed and in truth, how could she possibly argue her culpability in the events leading to his father's death? Ironically, she also knew that if she had betrayed only Luke, condemned him by revealing only his own disobedience to the Emperor, then he probably would have forgiven her- he had done in the past. No, it was the involvement of his father that had been inexcusable to Luke. The damage had been there, and it seemed irreparable.

He'd tried, she knew; tried to forgive, to move on in the months following. But it had eaten away at their foundations and though Luke couldn't bring himself to dismiss her from his presence entirely, what had once been a passionate, all-consuming closeness had cooled to an uneven melting pot of mixed emotions. Betrayal, bitterness, need and nostalgia changed the ground beneath her feet from day to day – from minute to minute sometimes, when he was tired and struggling with warring factions of his own psyche, cracks caused by Palpatine's relentless harrying and ruthless maltreatment in his desire to drag a Sith from the Jedi he held…

Only he never had quite separated the two. Because occasionally, Luke's mood would lighten and he seemed so close to the brash pilot who had been brought here six years ago. The man who had charmed her and intrigued her with his ready smile and his easy, indomitable manner long before Palpatine's bleak, discordant teachings had taken hold. Occasionally he still looked at her that same way, still responded with fierce, passionate intensity when she touched him or kissed him and he gathered her up and held her to him in a moment of spontaneous, impulsive sincerity.

But the moments were all the more precious for their rarity, and she was left with the heart-rending impression that he felt as much prey to his own erratic instability as did those about him.

"You should sleep." She said at last, eyes still on him.

"I'll bear that in mind. Is that what you stayed to tell me?" His tone was curt, but she let it go, turning to look out over the roiling blur of hyperspace.

"Is it the nightmares?" she asked quietly.

It had always been so when they'd slept together, striking in the dead of night and making him jolt upright with a yell, several steps across the room with chest heaving before he even realised he was awake. The nightmares which, like the scars she remembered so well criss-crossing his skin, would never fade completely. Palpatine's precious lessons, carved into him, body and soul both. Years of relentless chastisement doled out without hesitation in an attempt to control that which he both desired and feared.

She'd never gotten used to the nightmares in all the time they'd been together; never gotten used to him lurching up and shouting out in the darkness. And neither had he.

"Can we change the subject?" he said simply, and Mara let the moment slide, aware of his fragile state.

"Do you think this will work?" she asked at last, "Do you think she'll trust you?"

"Not at first." Luke replied distantly, more willing to talk on this less personal issue, "But I think past history will buy me the time to make her. She doesn't have to like me, she just has to listen to me."

"Will you use the Force?"

Luke's jaw tightened slightly; he and no-one else knew that Leia Organa had latent Force abilities. It was immaterial of course; he had no desire to take an apprentice and if he did it would be Mara, whom he'd continued to instruct on and off since the Emperor's death. But Leia's ability may buy him some kind of connection, if only on the subtlest of levels.

"I'll use whatever I need to make her trust me." Mara remained silent for a long time and Luke waited, knowing she was searching for the words.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"That wasn't what you intended to ask."

Mara pursed ruby lips, glancing up at him, "Are you sure you can go through with this?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

She shrugged incrementally, "Hallin's worried."

"That's Hallin's natural state." Luke dismissed easily, "I'd be more concerned if he wasn't."

"Which doesn't mean to say he's wrong."

Luke turned smoothly to face her, mismatched blue eyes steady, "Do you think I won't go through with it?"

_Oh, she'd walked straight into that one._ "I was just saying Hallin was worried."

"That's not what I asked."

"I believe you'll do whatever you think is required." Mara said, believing this completely; "I just worry about the cost."

He projected the perfect image of steadfast confidence, every inch the Emperor, the fine blade Palpatine had forged in the heat of adversity – but that wasn't the truth of it at all, Mara knew. Palpatine had invested years in purging his Sith advocate of human weaknesses, had honed his soul to a razor-edge. In many ways he'd succeeded. But not entirely – and Luke hated him for it. Some days for his success, others for his failure.

"There is no _cost_." he said, turning away, "You're looking for sentiments that no longer exist."

Mara searched his face for a few seconds but Luke didn't look to her. When she spoke it was with absolute commitment- and why was that the most disturbing thing of all to Luke?

"I believe you can do this." she said with a steady voice. "I believe you _will_ do this- you'll do whatever you consider necessary. That's the problem."

Luke remained still, aware of the damning truth in that. All the headstrong will and resilience which had kept him alive for so long under Palpatine's attention, even that the Sith had twisted through with Darkness and malice, and now Luke would turn it just as easily on himself as anyone else.

Whatever achieved his goal.

"She has no hold on me anymore if that's what you're worried about; she can't hurt me."

"I know that. I just wanted to be sure that you did."

"Of course I did." He turned, voice dry and brittle, "I'm unfeeling, unreachable… didn't you know? Don't you listen to the whispers in Court?"

"He _made you strong_." Mara said, aware that his thoughts were on his old Master, "Immaterial of how he did it, he made you what you are."

"I don't _like_ what I am."

And there – there was the fracture that tore at him, tightening his voice as Mara sensed the change envelop him like a shadow, induced by the mere mention of his old Master.

"You're Emperor!" she said, lost as ever as to how that could be anything but a desirable thing.

"Is that all you see when you look at me?" The disappointment was painfully evident in his voice.

It had always been there, Mara knew, carefully fed by Palpatine, this particular twist of crippling self-doubt; the absolute conviction that no-one could be interested in him for his own merits, that all they saw was his position and wealth. Occasionally some tiny sliver of that disillusionment would show, and it always bit when it did.  
The last six years had been trial after trial heaped on his shoulders and he'd done what he had to just to survive. One of the very few who knew what he'd truly been through, Mara didn't begrudge him that. She knew what was going on in his head, the lessons he'd learned – that he couldn't _afford_ sentiment, couldn't _allow_ closeness.

So he pushed her away - time and again.

"Because if that's all you see, I can find a hundred more like you- a thousand."

"You know it's not." Mara said flatly, aware that once again as it had personalised the conversation had taken a more precarious turn, Luke's mercurial temperament swinging instantly from composed to fractious.

He laughed derisively, "You're a poor liar, Mara Jade."

"I'm not lying." she said, meeting his eyes.

A Force-sensitive part-trained by Palpatine, she'd long held the ability to shield her thoughts, though not always entirely successfully from Luke as his own ability grew. Those shields were in place now, and she felt the undisguised brush of his mind against hers, though he made no attempt to break through. The fact that she had them was enough in this instance; an admission that her words were at least partially contrary to her thoughts. He had made his point.

He glanced away dismissively, walking to the tall viewpane, "Running the percentages, then. How much you stay to be with the Emperor and how much to be with Luke Skywalker."

It was a low blow, not least because in her own darker moments she wondered whether it hinted at the truth. "I'm here because I want to be with both- because they're the same person."

Still with his back to her he wrapped his arms about himself, wide shoulders hunching forward, and even without seeing his face Mara could sense the change creep over him again, and knew that the knowledge of what he was about to do in coldly using someone he had once trusted so implicitly was breaking him apart inside. Despite everything; despite every resolve and every logic and all of his Sith training, this was biting deep. So deep that the only way he could deal with it was to close that part of himself off and lock it away. Only he never quite did; could never quite let go.

One more splinter in an already fractured psyche. He would do it though, because just as with Mothma, he believed it needed to be done. But he wasn't proud of himself or the deceits and manipulations he employed… and it was breaking him apart, even if he couldn't see it.

"They _are_ the same person." she repeated.

He didn't turn but the change in his voice was striking, all earlier hostility gone, leaving only an empty bitterness and a muted vulnerability, like a shadow falling over him "That's just it Mara; they're not."

.

.


	6. Chapter 6

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**CHAPTER THREE**

.

.

Something was wrong… something was very, _very_ wrong.

She'd known it from the moment she stepped foot on the staging post at Devaron's South Pole two days ago; some vague, undefined tremor at the back of Leia's mind. She'd put it down to nerves; it was over a year since she'd last been on a mission, and that had hardly been a soaring success, so this was just nerves… just nerves.

Nothing out of place – nothing amiss. It had gone perfectly; textbook. Not so much as a peep from the watchers stationed in the base a full eight days before, watching traffic movement and monitoring com channels. Nothing out of the ordinary; a second-rate base which serviced the commercial and the military, a little run-down, a little tired, frayed routines which had been in place for years rolling on with scant attention and casual familiarity.

The ISD Peremptory had turned up a half-day early, but that wasn't so unusual on a Tour of Duty as extended as the Core Loop, and there was nothing untoward in the coms coming from the bristling Destroyer. A higher than normal number of long-distance coms, but only to central hubs. Nothing to worry about… nothing to worry about.

Troopers came down to the station on standard duties in standard numbers, overseeing supply lines. There were five unaccountable ships left the Destroyer's hangar. Three were private craft, the other two were tracked and landed well outside the base, in the nearby continent of Calasia. Nothing to worry about. Everything's fine.

Why did she keep repeating that like a mantra?

They'd watched all three private craft from the moment they set down, guided in on lights as they made their final descent, the pole's wave-scattering effects coming into effect as they closed with the ore-laden ground. Two landed on the civilian deck of the staging post, One had four officers, clearly on ground-leave. All mid-level, all male; any one of them could be their informer. All four of them could, in a pact; it wasn't unknown.

Leia had split her group to leave watchers with them; four men – one to tag each officer. They'd checked into the best inn on the station and made their way straight to the casino. They'd stayed there ever since.

The second contained two older officers and two troopers. They'd been watched from a distance and had gone to the administration base. Leia's group had spliced into the staging post's surveillance two days ago, but they hadn't gotten past the main security codes, so had lost the group within minutes when they'd moved into restricted corridors. She'd split the group a second time to leave two men behind, one for each officer, with orders to mark them coming out of the base and pass it on when they did.

So now they were down to the last shuttle. It had been another three officers; two men and a woman with long, dark hair, wearing a black Intel uniform. The men wore officers uniforms but walked like professional soldiers. The woman walked like she could take either or both of them down without breaking a sweat.

Leia had split the group again; three more left behind to mark them, Han and Chewie staying with the woman; he'd said she made his trigger-finger itch.

Leia had made her way to the meeting place in the maintenance corridors beneath the base with the three remaining soldiers; not a huge amount of back-up, but Han and his group were within com distance still, close enough that the scattering effect of Devron's pole hadn't cancelled out the signal. Besides it was fine. Everything was fine, nothing to worry about… grief, why did she keep repeating that?!

They arrived thirty minutes early, the meeting place a maintenance side-room which serviced the heating system deep in the bowels of the busy staging-post, hidden among endless maintenance access corridors threaded through with pipes and conduits, the guts of the station, keeping the pole's elements at bay.

It was old and it was grubby in these unseen spaces, burned lubricant mixing with decades of dust to cover scratched, paint-chipped surfaces and tired machinery in a film of thick grime, the lights flickering on by sensor as the doors to each new section slid open and stuttering to darkness behind them as doors closed. It reminded Leia of the engine rooms of practically every Rebel corvette or destroyer she'd ever flown on. Her hand went to rest against the butt of the blaster she wore, and she silently chided her own nerves; she wasn't afraid of a little darkness.

She checked the number on the door; room seventeen. They were heading for room five. She pushed on, almost there.

The com made her physically jump as it went off at her hip, and she heard Exley behind her curse under his breath and Gorin behind him snicker. Pursing her lips momentarily, she lifted the comlink, "What?"

"I lost her." It was Han, and Leia knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You're kidding me. I give you one person to watch…"

"They all went into the records library; the two officers came out and went into the admin block but she wasn't with them. We had a guy on both exits and I just did a walk-through but she wasn't there. I'm coming to your position now."

"Go and find the woman."

There was a brief pause, "That's why I'm coming to you, sweetheart."

Leia sighed, considering, aware of the three soldiers waiting patiently, their eyes on her. She glanced to the door number; eight. They were close enough to continue; the Empire seldom simply watched those it believed to be traitors; people were arrested and disappeared for far less than that. It would be fine; everything was fine… _why_ did she keep thinking that?!

"Fine. Just don't barge in and scare my contact.."

She set forward again, resting her hand on her blaster; it was fine; everything was fine… _Damnit Leia, stop saying that!_

Room eight. She paused, glancing back; no sign of Han yet. Coley had remained on watch in room twelve, their rear guard. Exley and Gorin slowed, uncertain.

Leia nodded once, putting forward he image of the consummate, courageous soldier. "You two wait here and keep your eyes open. If I'm more than five minutes, com me. If I answer with anything other than 'go ahead', something's wrong."

They nodded, backing up… and Leia pressed the door release, setting forward again, the sound of the soldiers instantly dulled to nothing as the door slid solidly shut behind her. She glanced ahead in the gloom; room five.

Chiding her own hesitation, Leia hit the realease and stepped inside.

The lights were low, but then they'd been that in the previous four rooms too, the area clearly used by 'droids more than people. She stepped into the gloom, the low rush of contained air through old pipes providing a background hum which dampened her footfalls…

.

It trickled up her spine in a tremor of awareness, raising the hairs on the back of her neck as the door closed with a solid thud behind her.

He stepped out of the shadows as if he was one of them – and why hadn't she seen him sooner; he'd been right there.

"Hello Leia." His voice was quiet and calm and instantly recognizable.

Her hand had gone to her blaster as the door had closed, and she wrenched it free and up now, pointing it at his chest and firing without hesitation. She pulled the trigger again and again, the bolts burning across the short distance between them, shot after shot after shot, igniting the room burst after burst, like lightening striking.

And Luke- Luke simply batted them aside, like Vader had on Cloud City; like his father had. His _father_.

He twisted his hand, fingers outstretched- and the blaster misfired; then again, then again, and Leia just kept on pulling the trigger. She just kept on, the blaster sounding only dead, empty clicks now.

Finally when she slowed, he lifted his eyebrows- and his eyes were the same pale blue, that same sky blue that had laughed with her and cried with her and shared her secrets…and told her lies. Only not quite the same.

"Are you finished?" he asked, voice cool and amused and accusing all in one.

"No- you're still alive." Leia bit out.

"You know it would take more than a gun to bring me down, Highness."

Leia lifted her chin, "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then put the gun down."

"I though it couldn't harm you?"

He held out his hand and the gun wrenched from Leia's tight grip, pulling her forward a step such was the force.

"Still, there shouldn't be such things between old friends." As he spoke so casually he walked forward into the light, his hand holding Leia's gun falling to his side.

Leia half-turned but caught herself; there seemed little point in trying to open the door behind her; she'd seen what he'd done onboard the Patriot, ripping open the heavy double-bolted blast door in order that she could escape… _escape_. He'd tried to help her then, all be it unconventionally… so what was this now?

Uncertain, she turned back and saw, really _saw_ for the first time the man stood before her… and grief, he looked so much like an old friend. He was slimmer at the hips and wider at the shoulder, skin pale, hair falling in a loose tangle of open curls to brush the tops of his shoulders. The scar… the scar was deeper than she'd imagined, a fluid, irregular line which twisted down his face, at once unsettling and fascinating.

"Were we ever that?" she asked at last, uncertain, looking into those pale blue eyes after so long-an absence. He'd always had such wonderful sky-blue eyes, always on the verge of smiling. Now his right eye was cast through with a twist of darkest red-brown which obscured half the pale blue, striking in its contrast, surrounded by a scar so deep that it pulled as he smiled, shrugging casually beneath her scrutiny, coolly unmoved.

"Acquaintances then."

A memory cut through Leia's thoughts of running, throwing herself into his arms after he'd destroyed the Death Star, of his swinging her round, laughing. He'd been everything to her in that moment; friend, saviour, brother-in-arms. A kindred spirit sharing every dream and aspiration - a part of her soul.

"You're a cruel man…" she'd said the words without realising, a thought murmured out loud.

He stopped absolutely still, his face almost unreadable- but Leia knew him too well, so the tiny flickers of emotion which passed over those blue eyes were there to be read as she could read no-one else, not even Han.

Surprise of course, that she had uttered them at all. Then regret; genuine pain that she would think such a thing of him, followed quickly by indignation, tensing muscles in face and body alike.

For a second she thought he would strike out at her, then the moment passed, to be replaced by that detached, insular amusement again.

"Life is cruel- I merely keep pace." Those sharp eyes skewered her. "It wasn't I who betrayed."

"What about Mon?" Leia challenged.

He stepped closer, turned his head slightly so that the long heavy scar which ran from above his right eye down the length of his cheek to cut through his lips was clear, though Leia could hardly fail to have seen it.

"I believe she landed the first blow." He said pointedly, that perfect Coruscanti accent strange coming from his mouth.

Leia held her silence, uncertain what to say, and Luke began a slow circle round her as she remained facing forwards, holding her ground, wondering how she had come to fear the man she once cared so much for.

"Actually that's untrue," he said from behind her in consideration of his own words, his unexpected closeness making Leia jump despite herself, his voice turning from detached and amused to hard and demanding. "You did that… why did you betray me?"

"I didn't." she denied; a guilty reflex.

"Liar." He seemed amused again rather than angry, "Only you knew- only you could have told them."

_So he had known who he was. He must have._ "I showed them the evidence- they made their own decision."

"Thus absolving you of all guilt. How wonderfully clear you conscience must be."

"And yours?" Leia challenged, lifting her chin.

He paused before her, smiling that enigmatic smile, nothing revealed, neither remorse nor regret. "I have no conscience," he said easily. "I'm way beyond hope."

"Of what?" she whispered, and he resumed his slow walk around her with a shrug.

"Contrition, compassion." he said from beside her, his recognition of his flaws giving Leia a momentary burst of hope before he shot it down completely, "Whatever- doesn't matter. Caring what you think, perhaps."

"Were you a spy?" she had to ask.

"What do you think?"

"I'm asking you." Leia said, frustration giving her courage, "Giving you a chance to defend yourself."

"It's a little late for that isn't it?" he whispered from close behind again, making her start. "Six years too late. Where was your _justice_ then?"

Leia clamped her jaw as she turned, "I swore I wouldn't regret what I did."

He tilted his head, mismatched eyes regarding her with cool, calculating interest. She'd always remembered them as so open, so passionate, so artless. Were her memories so wrong?

"Vader- my father- said that to me once."

He said the words dispassionately, though aware of their power. Still, it shook Leia to the core. To suspect the truth was one thing; to hear him speak it, give that title to the man he had cursed so desperately for murdering Kenobi before his eyes, was profoundly disturbing.

A flash of insight hit her at the memory; that she knew these things as facts, but Luke had lived them- had been forced to find a way through those devastating truths, to acknowledge and come to terms with them. For a brief instant she felt such pity for him - then wondered if she should feel anything at all.  
Wasn't the _real_ truth that Skywalker rooted out and betrayed Kenobi to the Empire- led him into a trap for his father's benefit? But Luke's grief had seemed so genuine at the time… what was true and what was a lie?

"What did you reply?" she said at last, aware of his eyes on her.

He frowned just slightly, the finest of lines forming about those still-youthful eyes, "I believe I told him the decision was not his to make." He stated obscurely, both avoiding and answering the question, accusing Leia of the same charge.

Leia frowned, freshly uncertain at the unspoken implication. "Did he.. did Vader betray you?" she whispered.

Luke looked away, avoiding her searching gaze- the first time he had done this. It was a momentary melting of his shields, his next words shocking in their vulnerability, his manner changing before her eyes. "No. My father could never betray me; I never trusted him. Betrayal requires trust-" He looked back to her now; "Only a friend can betray."

Leia froze beneath those cool eyes, stomach churning at the accusation-

Then the slightest hint of a smile curved the corners of Luke's scarred lips, the disturbingly mercurial change hiding that flash of emotion, the man she had known instantly buried beneath the Emperor he had become.

"Was I wrong?" Leia whispered, prepared in that moment to believe whatever he offered.

Luke studied her closely... and in that stretched moment, looking into his eyes, Leia thought he would cry out- that everything would be explained; a ghastly mistake, compounded and magnified, everything she knew that she wanted to hear...

Then he stepped back; a moment's grace to gain his centre again, so that when he looked away as he spoke, his voice was level and dismissive. "You made your decision long ago. Clearly you felt then that the sparse information at hand was sufficient to condemn me."

"I _had_ to tell them."

"And you did; you made your decision - and then you backed others who acted upon it... I've been forced to deal with the consequences every day since... you'll have to do the same.

"Tell me I was wrong?" It was more an appeal than a question, her heart momentarily overruling all else. But he shook his head, completely composed again, all such personal considerations buried.

"This is immaterial. What matters is where we are now. I am Emperor and you lead a rebellion against me. And it will stop."

Leia recoiled at this sudden change in persona, the momentary glimpse of the man she knew completely repressed beneath the man who continued with such authoritative tones.

"Palpatine toyed with your rebellion for twenty years for his own amusement and to serve his ends. He used you - and you let him. You helped him stabilise his Empire; provided an excuse for more laws and restrictions than he could have ever raised without the inflated threat of your supposed actions. But I no longer need those excuses. The Empire is established, permanently."

"We'll oppose.."

"But it's no longer Palpatine's Empire- it's mine." He overrode her as if she had not spoken at all, and it was a testament to his experience and command - to how much he'd really changed - that Leia let him do so; she was no stranger to the tactic and would never normally allow it against her, yet she let him continue.

"And I will treat it as such. I intend to ease restrictions put in place to deal with the Rebellion. I intend to continue to relax laws which have restricted civilian freedoms. To reinstate personal sentient rights - all rights. Freedom of movement and liberties of speech, the right to protection by the State; the right to trial by a jury of peers, to constitutional equality. All of this toward a single goal; to lead my Empire forward on a course which will eventually see the restoration of Democratic State. And to do all this, I'm willing to open a dialogue with the Rebel Alliance- or more specifically, with you."

Leia was speechless; she felt her jaw slacken as her mind raced to keep up with this whirlwind turn of events. She'd thought she had walked into a trap- that Luke would laugh in her face and watch her dragged to an Imperial detention center, as he'd done with Mon. And yet she was still here - talking to the Emperor! Or Luke, or whoever the hell this lightening twist of volatile, conflicting, confusing actions was.

And now… now, everything she'd ever wanted, everything the Alliance had fought for her whole life, was suddenly being offered to them on a plate- by that new Emperor, no less. By Darth Vader's son. By The Wolf; the man who'd killed Mon Mothma. The man who'd lured the leader of the Alliance out into the open with cold manipulations then removed her, handing her over to Palpatine, throwing the Rebellion into confusion and chaos.

Was he doing the same with her now? Could she trust the Wolf?

"What can I do to prove my commitment?" he asked openly, a ghost of a smile touching those scarred lips.

"Step down." Leia said immediately "Abdicate."

He grinned at that, as if she had asked for a moon on a plate. "Realistically?"

"Step down - or I'll make you." Leia said, deadly serious.

"As you did my predecessor?" he mocked without true malice. "_I_ brought Palpatine down, not you. You see that's the trouble with black and white, it's forced to extremes. Real life is lived in a thousand shades of grey. It's that which brought Palpatine down. This." he said of himself. "And I'll bring his Empire down too, if I can."

Leia stared, simply stared at him, lost all over again as to who and what he was. He ran from one extreme to the other in a single sentence. From black to white and back again, neither and both in the same moment. But wasn't that what he was trying to tell her? Could she believe him - and even if she did… did that mean she could trust him?

"Now you think I'm telling you what you want to hear." he said, amused, clearly aware of the confusion he'd sown.

Leia scowled, "Are you reading my thoughts?"

"Hardly, it's written all over your face." He countered easily, unoffended. "And anyway, I know you too well."

Leia tried to gather her wits around this amazing shift of events, completely lost. "Then why…why tell me like this- why not make it public? Invite the Alliance to official negotiations?"

He stared at her for several seconds, as if he simply couldn't believe that she'd asked the question. When he finally replied, that same dry, detached amusement was still audible in his tone.

"Firstly, because it would be an outrageous and unnecessary show of weakness on my part. Secondly because it could easily instigate a civil war - turn the Royal Houses and my own military against me and result in my loosing half my Moffs before I beat some sense of what I can only laughably refer to as loyalty back into them. Thirdly because even if that didn't happen, I would have to deal with a string of assassination attempts… above and beyond the normal quota, you understand - I hate to disappoint you but you're not the only people with an axe to grind with the Emperor. And, oh yes- lastly because I don't think you'd attend. If you had any political savvy at all, you'd just sit back and watch the fireworks as my Empire tore itself apart. In your position, I certainly would."

Leia stared, just stared, unable to believe how much he'd changed- been forced to change. He was a leader now, with all the far-reaching awareness that such a position demanded. When she'd last seen him he'd been - what? Half farmboy, half-soldier, if his murky past was true. Still finding his place in the larger galaxy. Always fated for greater things; one could see that even then. But this - this was no idealistic savant at war with his own intractable emotions, this was a man of vision, confident of his intentions, aware that he possessed the resolve and the willpower and the position to fulfil them… good or bad.

"That's a lot of very carefully considered reasons." Leia said warily.

"I can understand your doubts," Luke stated politically, "My having aided in the capture and therefore by extension the execution of your previous leader would raise certain reservations…"

"Murder." Leia corrected vehemently.

"I'm not here to argue semantics with you." he dismissed mildly, unoffended.

"Then let me go."

Luke raised his eyebrows at that, "You are not being held, Princess."

Leia searched his even gaze for long seconds with no idea whatsoever as to what was really going on in his mind. And she shouldn't try to learn, she admonished herself. Don't get pulled in.  
She turned without another word and headed for the door. She was almost there, hand reaching out for the release, when his words stopped her cold.

" 'It's not what you call us and it's not where we stand. It's what we _do_ which defines us'." He recited evenly, "Quite a speech. Do you recognise it?"

Leia spoke without turning, "My father."

"Yes. Bail Organa said it on behalf of the fledgling Rebellion when it was first challenged as unlawful by Palpatine's puppet Senate - but I think he would have agreed that it holds relevance no matter who we are."

"Or _what_?" Leia challenged without turning, and the brittle silence which followed made her heart pound against her ribs.

But there was no reaction, no explosion of indignant fury. His voice when he spoke was a quiet murmur, a shocking burst of genuine regret. "When did it come to this, Leia? When did I become less than human in your eyes?"

"When you served Palpatine." Leia said resolutely, refusing to turn; to be pulled in once again.

"How wonderfully simplistic your world is." he observed without malice, "I envy it."

"It doesn't excuse your actions."

"No it doesn't." he said simply, the honesty in his voice turning her around. For a moment - for just an instant - he was Luke Skywalker again, those expressive, vulnerable sky blue eyes staring out at her, begging for understanding.

Realising her compassion he raised his chin, the insular, emotionless mask falling again, the change instantaneous, quicksilver fast. "But then I didn't come here for your forgiveness."

"Then what did you come for?"

"Your collaboration." Leia narrowed her eyes at that, freshly cautious in this guarded game of words. he tiltesd his head, voice softening. "I'm offering you everything you ever wanted, Princess. Everything you need. Everything the galaxy needs… without another drop of blood being shed."

Leia shook her head, unwilling to be persuaded, "If you're offering any kind of deal it's because we're a threat to you."

"Hardly." That instant hardening, evasive and amused.

"You've rescinded the Slavery Edict already. Because of us- because of the threat we represent."

He actually smiled at that, "Please- don't flatter yourselves. You're an annoyance, that's all. A minor complication. A little exercise for the Fleet. You won't stop me doing anything I intend to do."

"Listen to yourself!" Leia said, "You sound just like the Emperor!"

"I _am_ the Emperor." He countered decisively.

"Palpatine." Leia hissed, "You sound just like Palpatine."

Luke only set his head on one side, her words not touching him at all, "Believe me, I sound nothing like Palpatine. And I _am_ nothing like Palpatine, despite what you think - or do you believe this meeting would ever have taken place under his rule?"

"This meeting hasn't taken place anyway." Leia said knowingly, "If I told anyone, I'm sure you'd disavow it."

He took a step back, trying a different tack, "I never thought it of you…"

"…What?" she frowned, unsure.

"That you'd allow your personal feelings to come before the greater good. I always thought you a better leader than that."

That stopped Leia dead for long seconds, uncertainty creeping in - was she doing just that? She looked up to see him watching her closely and squared her jaw, though some of her surety was gone. "I won't lead the Alliance into a trap."

"I believe you." He replied instantly, "No leader would knowingly do that. But I thought you were more- I thought you had vision. The foresight to see past other people's preconceptions."

Again she paused, pulled unwillingly in and turned about by the sudden intense sincerity in his words, the faith. The need.

"We have a chance here, Leia - as never before. Two new leaders; a chance to sweep away all the old prejudices, to begin again." He stepped forward, eyes wild and hopeful. "This is what people want Leia- what they _need_. And it will never come again. Never. Two new powers- every possibility. This will go down in history as a defining moment. I can think of no other being with the strength of spirit and the drive and the _vision_ to take this opportunity and make it their own. It's not enough to be a leader, Leia. It's not enough to have a goal - you have to find a path to get there, to get everyone there. And if you see it, you have to seize it with both hands… because it may never come again."

Leia stared… just stared at him for an eternity, huge hazel eyes searching his own, looking for something- within him, within herself. She wanted to believe, she knew that now. Despite everything she had said aloud of him, everything she'd thought she felt…here, now, she _wanted_ to believe that there was some spark of decency in him. She wanted to scratch the surface of the new Emperor and find Luke Skywalker. Find the man who'd swept her up and spun her about with such heartfelf sincerity and admirable principles… so close to the ones he'd just declared with such intense, unguarded passion.

Or was it all a game - an act before a wary, critical audience?  
Because the man who stood before her now looked nothing like the brother-in-arms she'd lost, scars visible and invisible marking his demeanour… but something whispered - something warmed her soul and froze her heart in the same instant to be this close to him again. Something bound them together… it always had.

He sighed, voice quiet and low. "You're looking for assurances, and I can't give you any, because I'm putting my own leadership on the line too. This may all crumble… but it won't be for want of my commitment." he looked up at her, the question unspoken…

"I… need time to consider…" There was his victory - and they both knew it.

He only took a step back graciously, "Of course. You can contact me when you're ready to talk further."

"… How- if I choose to do so?" She knew that she would… and so did he.

"As usual."

_As usual_… All this time… would she have broken the contact if she'd known it was Luke? Yes, absolutely.

It had taken this; to be face to face, to look into those eyes again and see the soul within, to feel that strange… _something_ in her own soul warm in reply, like finding some lost part of herself. Despite every misgiving, to walk away now believing they would never speak again would be like cutting off a limb… she simply couldn't contemplate it.

"You should go." he said at last, taking another step back, "Your people will be waiting…"

She stared for long seconds into his face, at once achingly familiar and shockingly changed… then turned in silence, hand to the door release.

"Leia– "

She paused, unable to turn back, her stomach tightened into a nauseous knot at the uneasy confusion in his hesitant voice, but he didn't speak again, and eventually she set forward into the corridor beyond, the door sliding closed behind her, consigning him to the shadows once again.

.

Luke stood in the wan light, lost in thought, ill at ease before the tide of old memories rising within him.

The slim access door beside him slid open in a splash of bright light and Mara catwalked silently forward, the unfitted taupe jumpsuit she wore melting her into the shadows of the room, her black wig long abandoned in favour of a maintenance cap, auburn hair twisted up beneath it.

"Do you think she bought it?" she asked warily.

Luke narrowed his eyes, still staring at the door Leia had left through, still shaken at how much it had unbalanced him, though he let nothing show, even to Mara.

"We'll find out soon enough." He murmured.

"And if she decides not to take the chance?" Mara anked, wondering why Luke hadn't simply read her thoughts.

"Then I'll remove her." Luke said without hesitation, turning abruptly away from the closed door. "Replace her with someone who will."

Mara narrowed her eyes, unsure if he was simply saying what he knew she wanted to hear; he always played his cards close to his chest, even with her. Palpatine had instilled that lesson too well. "I thought you said it had to be her? That's why you put her into power."

"I put her in power because I said I could read and predict her." Luke corrected easily, unsure in that moment if Mara had intended to trip him up or not, but not willing to take the chance either way, automatically evasive. "If she doesn't contact me then clearly I'm wrong - which renders her valueless to me."

He finally turned, flashing that easy, charming, apparently open smile - the armour he hid behind so often. "You worry too much, Red." He assured, walking past her and down the narrow side-corridor.

Mara was left alone, frowning at his back - remembering the countless times that Palpatine had said the same thing in that same, dismissive tone.

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	7. Chapter 7

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**CHAPTER FOUR**

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Squinting in the low morning light, Mara walked briskly through the wide, galleried corridors of the North Tower heading for the Cabinet Rooms in the South, knowing that on his first full day after having returned to the Palace Luke would be there, attending to his Empire; he'd probably been there since dawn.

Which made her late, though her shift didn't actually start for another forty minutes. Still, she hurried her pace.

Fact was, you pretty much had to walk briskly anywhere within the sprawling corridors of the Palace if you intended to get to your destination before midday. And anyway, the exercise woke her up she reflected, squinting as she glanced out over the wide space which separated the four lofty Residential Towers where they sat in a neat square atop the roof of the Main Palace, another burst of low-lying sunlight streaming in through the curved glass wall of the galleried corridor .

Staggered well apart to let long shafts of light into their centre, each of the ninety-storey Towers rose from a grand, partially glass-roofed atrium, the arch of whose lofty vaulted ceiling was supported by regimented rows of carved, gracefully fluted columns. Access from the Main Palace below the atrium to the completely entrenched world of the Residential Towers above - a separate Palace in their own right - was closely guarded from the already-secure Main Palace by floors of inbuilt defences.  
Just two bottleneck entrances, long enclosed hallways discretely lined with guard houses, blast shields, isolation zones and multiple inclision grids, allowed entry to the Towers, their windowless stretch serving to emphasize the breathaking magnificence of the ten-story high atrium they opened into, the first level of the coveted Residential Towers. Named The Crossways, the airy atrium separated out into four wide, sweeping stairwells leading to the four square Residential Towers, discrete surveillance constantly scanning to check the relevant security clearance.

Once in the Towers looking down, one could see that each had lost its innermost corner to a curved glass wall so that, if viewed from above, the missing corners of the four Towers described a single central tube, the empty space large enough to house a sprawling formal garden on what was actually the reinforced roof of the Crossways atrium. The wide symmetrical walkways of this most exclusive of gardens were paved in etched and banded glass, allowing natural light to stream down in narrow shafts through the vaulted roof of the lofty Crossways atrium below.

As she ascended the South Tower, Mara glanced up and across the tops of the trees to the North Tower opposite, an identical curved wall of ninety storeys of dark mercury-colored privacy glass, the subtly reflective finish of the curved Towers mirroring each-other back and forth in a never-ending optical illusion. 'The Palace of Mirrors' they'd called it in Palpatine's time, in subtle double-entendre at the amount of secret alliances, private pacts and scheming manipulations it hid behind its glittering façade.

Had so very much changed since the old Emperor's demise? Yes and no.

Inside the Main Palace beneath the Towers it seemed like a different world to Mara from that which she had known since childhood, at once completely familiar and yet unmistakable changed.

There were still lots of people, yes, but then the huge bulk of the Main Palace had always been a city within itself, easily swallowing its plentiful inhabitants up in its massive, monolithic structure even in the busiest areas around the 'public' courtyards, where security-cleared staff and dignitaries were free to congregate.

In the early part of Palpatine's reign, all control had been centralized to the almost mile-square bulk of the Main Palace on which the four elite and closely guarded Residential Towers rested, his notorious distrust of anyone demanding that he maintain all power within easy reach and close scrutiny. Even now during Luke's reign, although a notable amount of control was being transferred to regional locations, the ability to make major or long-reaching decisions still remained solely within the Palace, requiring a huge staff to assimilate, prioritize, allocate and act upon the incredible amount of data coming in daily from the vast reaches of the Empire.

But unlike the past, people who served the Emperor in these areas were no longer obliged to live their lives within the Main Palace, though many still remained in the virtual city on the Staff Habitation Zones toward the upper levels of the Main Palace, still referred to by those who had lived and worked there for almost two decades as The Monolith.

And for the first time – for the very first time since the Palace had been constructed – there was the first scattering of alien lifeforms among the humans. Unthinkable in Palpatine's reign save by his own favour, the relaxation of the Classification system had begun to show even here, in the slow turnover of staff, military and civilian. Still, it was the brave few, Mara reflected, who had the guts to come and work within the Main Palace; the new equality was rigidly enforced here, but almost two decades of human-only existence here had to have embedded certain prejudices.

It was strange to think that all that bustling life was still going on in the Monolith below the four private Residential Towers, which seemed now forever empty and echoing by comparison. The huge numbers of people required to 'attend Court' in Palpatine's reign were long gone, most having been either currying favour and power from Palpatine, or else little more than thinly-disguised hostages; permanent 'guests' of the Emperor, kept close to ensure obedience in others, or simply wreak revenge. In fact, now there was little 'Court' to be seen,

The old Emperor enjoyed the trappings of his position but remained uninterested in the minutiae other than to confirm his control. To _own_ it was enough. Skywalker on the other hand, remained consistently immersed in the day-to-day running of his Empire. He had a job to do, an end goal to achieve… and though Mara wasn't sure yet exactly what that was, she knew that the first stages aimed towards achieving it were already set in motion, constantly monitored. Occasionally, she felt she saw fragments of the bigger picture, then Luke would contradict them entirely, always with reason, everything so completely logical. In fact, she reflected wryly, she'd taken to the habit of dismissing on principle anything which seemed undeniably plausible or flawlessly credible.

He'd claimed – very logically of course – that the constitutional changes were to root out dissent, but he could have chosen any number of laws for that, why specifically choose to relax the slavery laws? And if it was simply an empty exercise, why apply it so assiduously in the Palace itself? No, she knew Luke, and he had a bigger picture in mind here even if he wasn't willing to share it; in that he was very much like his old Master. But then, she supposed he was entitled to such behaviour; he was after all, Emperor.

All be it a very different kind of Emperor.

Already, within a year of his accession, Court which had been held nightly in Palpatine's reign was nothing more than show; empty, powerless lip-service paid to previous tradition. Luke had presided less than a dozen times in the last year - and even then only when convention marked some kind of milestone which traditionally required the Emperor's attendance. Knowing him as she did, Mara also saw what he hid so well behind a veneer of scornful disdain; that he was privately embarrassed by such things; that people were required to stand when he stood and sit when he sat and listen when he spoke. Which didn't stop him using such empty protocols if he felt it necessary; another lesson he'd learned at the old Emperor's hand.

So for the most part, while the Monolith remained busy and bustling, the four Towers which had comprised the old Court itself, the higher echelons of Government and living quarters for the Emperor, his retinue, and favoured Court dignitaries, were now less than half full. Huge areas, floor upon floor, were now completely vacant, grand apartment after apartment which had housed the influential Royal Houses bare, wide open expanses of stately Court and Civic rooms unused, leaving Mara with ghostly memories of a familiar past which echoed forlorn down the wide, empty corridors.

There were of course many dignitaries who still remained to fulfil their responsibilities or who held temporary apartments here at the Emperor's discretion, and the East Tower was still equipped to handle huge influxes of guests for official functions, but invitations to the Residential Towers were rare indeed, and all the more valued because of it - another fact Luke knew and used to his own advantage when necessary.

And there were still a few 'Survivors'; Royal Houses who had retained the ultimate recognition of permanent apartments assigned within the Palace, an unspoken expression of power and favour. It was one such Royal House which was on Mara's mind now as she made her way to the Cabinet, where Luke would be holding much sought-after private audiences all morning to listen to grievances, mediate disputes which had remained unresolved by lesser powers and allocate support or threats as necessary.

Beladon D'Arca, one such Survivor, had formally requested an audience with the Emperor, which seemed strange to Mara since his prominent support for Luke had meant that he generally had access to the Emperor with only a few days notice anyway. Why make this conventional request?

Presumably it must be some official business, or perhaps something to do with the imminent launch of the latest Star Destroyer, the Sterling, at which he had been invited to stand as Master of Ceremonies. Still, one other name had jumped off the 'Authorized Residents in Attendance' list, updated daily and sent out to all security personnel; his daughter, Kiria D'Arca, was presently a guest of the Imperial Palace.

It was hardly surprising; long-favoured by Palpatine, the Royal House of D'Arca were all over the highest levels of the Imperial military, and had held apartments in the East Tower long before Luke became Emperor. Their conspicuous early support of to Luke during his own accession had guaranteed their continued survival, evidenced by the fact that Luke had had never bothered to revoke that consent to maintain a residence within the Palace, though the fact that this had somehow become an open-ended invitation for Kiria D'Arca had always irked Mara.

And her all-too-regular visits hadn't failed to come to the notice of both the HoloNet and the various rival Intelligence agencies in operation even here, either. Palace Intel had intersected another report recently before sending it carefully on its way, this one bound for a Bothan group and therefore probably the Rebel Alliance. This particular report regarding Kiria D'Arca's continued presence came to no conclusions - that was for the analysts further up the ladder - but the amount of detail in it hinted at the importance that D'Arca was gaining in relation to the Emperor.

There were four recent images included of her, olive skinned and fine-featured, with that amazing river of raven hair falling down her back and huge, dark, almond eyes, intelligent and calculating. Far too much so for Mara's liking.

D'Arca had graduated from the prestigious Magrody Institute but despite many offers had failed to take any formal position, instead relaxing into the blue-chip lifestyle which her family's wealth and position could easily afford. A waste of a fine intellect and an exemplary education, the Intel files said.

Mara wasn't so sure. Kiria D'Arca had ambition alright, and she was putting every inch of her considerable abilities into forwarding it. Her family's status had gotten her into the Imperial Palace and then close to Luke, but she'd done the rest herself; no mean feat. Luke was notoriously wary of outsiders but had tolerated her slow, sly insinuation into his broader civic retinue without comment – but without interest either. And having gotten onto the fringes, for some reason Mara couldn't figure, D'Arca hadn't pressed her advantage further. And even if Luke couldn't see or wasn't bothering to acknowledge the truth, Mara was well aware of D'Arca's intent; she knew a rival when she was looking at one.

And it hadn't been missed elsewhere either. Mara had also read the profile given to the Rebels by the Bothan network earlier this year and though it had some mistakes, most of which Mara knew Palpatine had long ago seeded on purpose to be found, by and large it was surprisingly accurate.

Eight years older than Luke, which Mara knew wouldn't even be considered by him, D'Arca was described as ambitious and driving in her psyche profile, despite her disinterest in securing any recognised position. Witty and urbane, polished and cultured, she had moved in the highest circles from childhood, well-versed in the intricacies of Palace life, having gained official standing in Court and attended many times towards the end of Palpatine's reign.

The ideal, well-matched companion for the new Emperor, the psyche profile offered helpfully, curling Mara's lip.

Despite her knowledge to the contrary, it irked Mara that reports often listed D'Arca as having been connected romantically with the Emperor, the fact that her family held official apartments within the Palace seeming to be considered confirmation of that. D'Arca had long been drifting in and out of Luke's life at random, but never any pressure, close to Luke for a week or so then notably absent for months, seeming not at all concerned by this fact. Perhaps because she always managed to drift back in again, Mara reflected dryly.

Still, the report had tipped D'Arca as a more permanent Consort in the future- possibly even Empress. It had of course, always been assumed that Skywalker would make a political marriage, and even in the most conservative cliques Kiria D'Arca definitely held a place in the list of probable candidates. She'd made her first advances into Court towards the end of Palpatine's reign and even then, to Mara's eye, she'd had her goals well defined. Ambitious as she was, D'Arca certainly wouldn't allow something as minor as a change of Emperor to derail those plans. Mara hadn't failed to note the wording of the most recent Intel report; that D'Arca had been her 'usual attentive self' in regard to the new Emperor.

Which could well be jumping to conclusions, Mara knew - or being led to them - and if Luke was seeking to play some political game, then he would certainly be doing the latter. Still, possible scenarios were running unbidden through her mind when Mara finally reached the grand inset archway which marked the Imperial Cabinet, the corridors of power within the Palace.

Nodding at General Secretary Virran as she passed, Mara was already on her way to the Emperor's Cabinet Office when the man leaned forward slightly over his immaculately tidy desk to correct her.

"Receiving Room." he said simply, and Mara dug her heel in and did a quick about-turn to pass him again on her way back along the wide main corridor, noting Clem stood to loose attention at the far end, two further guards outside the tall, wide doors. Palpatine had always held such audiences in a massive formal Throne Room within the Cabinet, built specifically for the purpose, sat on a throne atop a raised dais, no underplay of his position or power. Luke, uncomfortable with such ostentatious powerplays, had ordered the room redesigned, split into smaller, less grandiose rooms, and now the majority of such meetings were held in a chamber which, although still imposing, had far more the atmosphere of a luxurious, well-appointed office than a formal Throne Room.

She pulled to a stop before Clem who, glancing meaningfully at the chrono on his comlink, handed her a small earbud already set to today's frequency. Knocking once, Mara waited for permission then entered, still pushing the speaker into her ear as she took up position just inside the door, Luke glancing up briefly from his meeting in acknowledgment.

.

By mid-morning a few border disputes had been put to rest in no uncertain terms and, despite the Minister of Extra-Planetary Trade Levy's advice, the planet Leritor had been allowed a one-year suspension of levies providing such funds were reinvested as aid to its major continent following devastating cyclones earlier that year.

Too indulgent by half, Mara reflected, though not so much that he hadn't had a quarterly proof-of-investments covenant set in place, to be delivered directly to the system's Moff – and put the fear of death into Leritor's Planetary Governor should Luke find such proofs wanting.

Mara remained at the inside of the massive doors as she always did, half-listening to the constant security chatter on the earbud. Stood to a loose attention, she fulfilled every concept of her public role as bodyguard, silent and discrete and oozing consummate aptitude.

A polite knock signalled the next audience and the tall doors slid aside to admit Lieutenant Bareskig, the morning's adjutant, with the next petitioner.

"Excellency, may I present Beladon D'Arca, head of the Ruling House D'Arca, Planetary Governor of Borleias, Teyr, Govan and Sigmi."

Unseen by the man as he entered, Mara narrowed her green eyes to slits, suspicion and dislike written all over her face. Luke glanced at her momentarily and couldn't help but let out a grin which he wrestled into a dignified smile as he turned to D'Arca.

"Excellency," Beladon oozed, stepping forward to make a perfect official bow, never too ingratiating, never too little and always for the exact time required, "It's always an honour."

Luke nodded, "Beladon. What brings you to my office?"

"If I may, Excellency, I'd like to request a private audience."

Guiti, who had been witnessing and recording the day's meetings from an inconspicuous corner glanced up, then at Luke, who leaned back in the conforming chair behind his expansive desk.

Curiosity peaked, Mara looked to Luke for a reaction, noting his expression change as he leaned back, tone mildly reprimanding, "Perhaps this should have been an unofficial audience, Beladon."

"Forgive me Excellency." D'Arca said with no hint of apology, "I considered it both a… personal and a political situation, though I would appreciate your indulgence in conducting it privately."

Luke narrowed his eyes, but nodded once in assent without turning. Guiti rose and, with a polite bow, made his exit. Mara stayed long seconds, uncertain, but when Luke glanced to her, expression unreadable, she too made a short bow and left, the heavy doors sliding silently closed behind her, leaving her with an undefined sense of impending trouble.

In the wide corridor outside, Clem raised an eyebrow, "What's going on?"

Mara struggled against the temptation to turn around and press her ear to the closed door, "D'Arca thinks he's entitled to private chit-chats now." she scorned, frustrated that Luke had allowed it but knowing he wouldn't have done so lightly.

Still, she'd give a month's pay to be on the other side of those doors right now.

.

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	8. Chapter 8

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As the door closed in silence, leaving only himself and D'Arca in the room, Luke rose and walked over to the bank of windows which overlooked the front elevation of the Palace to gaze out in silence down the long open avenue which ran in a perfectly straight line to the perimeter of the Palace grounds in the far distance, manicured lawns and intricately-paved walkways laid with mathematical precision. His eye was inexorably drawn to the Oval, the grand, alabaster and glass hall nestled in its own gardens to the outer edge of the Palace grounds, used only for the most formal events of State.

He stood in silence and waited for D'Arca to make his move, as he knew the man would; accustomed to holding Palpatine's favour, he'd never been lacking in confidence. Just how much so had become apparent on the old Emperor's death. within hours, D'Arca was working hard to secure an audience with Luke, but of course none were offered for anyone before his investiture, no matter what. still, despite his refusal, D'Arca had gone to great lengths to publicly proclaim his loyalty to the new Emperor and to ensure that other Royal Houses did the same.

In the event he was offered one five days after the public accession ceremony, which still made him one of the very first to secure a private audience with the new Emperor. When he finally came face to face, what he had to say had been unexpected to say the very least.  
Luke had watched the older man walk nervously into the ostentatious splendour of the substantial Presence Chamber in his apartments, its tall, barrelled ceiling returning the soft glow from inlaid goldwork onto pale turquoise walls, six huge elaborate rock-crystal chandeliers reflecting and refracting the daylight, each one easily twice a man's height, hanging in precarious splendour from a ceiling perhaps five times the elevation of a normal room, only the vast and never once utilised ballroom to the west wing of his sprawling apartments equalling it. This mass of dazzling refractions reflected down onto substantial gold and turquoise matched furnishings built specifically for the room, though they remained dwarfed by the grand proportions despite their bulk and quantity. It was a room built to impress, and even Luke's location when his visitors arrived - three quarters of the way down to the far wall so that the petitioner had to make a long, self-conscious walk to be even within earshot of their new Emperor - had been considered and planned in advance.

The imposing room had been chosen very carefully by Reece for the first round of personal audiences, granted only to the most influential of petitioners on a strictly-controlled schedule. At that point, just five days into Luke's reign, the most important aspects being presented to others were the unassailable position and the assured continuity which the new Emperor enbodied, and every effort was put into relating that to the elite in a manner they could understand.

Luke had already spent two days in full State Dress nodding at the apparently endless array of Royals, Planetary Representatives, political cognisanti and military elite who were paraded before him to bow and personally pledge loyalty and allegiance following his accession. After the first hundred or so he recognised practically nobody and by mid-afternoon on the first day, despite adamantly stating that he would _not_ sit on anything resembling a throne, Luke's undisclosed injuries meant that a heavy carved chair was brought in. By day two, he'd perfected the vague head-tilt-and-nod which accompanied any break in the monotonous drone of the Master of Ceremonies, indicating that he'd just finished rattling off yet another individual's name, formal title and rank. All so that those attending could claim to have been presented to the new Emperor and to have met him in person.  
Now, on day five of his rule and without once yet having spoken to his Cabinet, Luke needed to make more personal acknowledgments and reassure allies old and new.

Which was where D'Arca came in.

In his late sixties and with a lifetime of experience in politics, both under the Old Republic and the Empire's rule, D'Arca had been one of the very early supporters of Palpatine, when his family had been a minor Royal House holding deeds of precedence in the Corporate Sector. Their timely support, both monetarily and politically, of the fledgling Empire had earned them massive status as well as control of three planets in the Core Systems and two more in the Corporate Sector, and two decades of significant marriages and carefully managed military careers had gained them power across the political field- something D'Arca was clearly intent on fostering with the new Emperor, it seemed.

Yet he seemed nervous now, despite his support… Too nervous, as he walked the long stretch across the room towards Luke. Why was he so nervous? _Because you're Emperor now._

Somehow, despite everything that had happened in the last several days, that notion still eluded him. Perhaps he was still in some kind of denial because of the sheer absurdity of it.

D'Arca however, seemed to be coming to terms with the change with surprising ease. "May I offer you my most sincere congratulations on your accession, Excellency."

Luke eyed the man with cool reserve; they'd spoken only a few times in the past; he actually somehow seemed to have spoken far more to the man's daughter, whose name escaped him, than to D'Arca himself despite his obvious attempts at familiarity. He'd always seemed altogether too eager to please for Luke's liking. "Thank-you, D'Arca."

"Please Excellency, I'd be honoured if you continued to call me Beladon." The man bowed slightly so didn't notice Luke's raised eyebrow; to his knowledge, he'd never once referred to D'Arca by his given name.

"As you wish."

"I came to confirm my continued unconditional support, Excellency, on behalf of myself and the House of D'Arca in any and all its manifestations, though I'm sure you knew you commanded such. The D'Arca's have always enjoyed a close relationship with the Emperor."

Luke stifled a smile, feeling rather like he was watching a lapdog climbing into its master's chair the moment he left the room. "Even when the Emperor has changed?"

"Ah, but we already have a far-reaching accord between our Houses, Excellency… I trust that remains intact?"

Luke frowned at that, aware that they were finally getting to the reason for D'Arca's visit, "And that would be?"

D'Arca frowned back, half for show but half-genuine, Luke sensed. "Forgive me… I trust you were aware of the accord which had been agreed between the House D'Arca and the Emp… the late Emperor on your behalf?

Now that _was_ an act; D'Arca knew damn well that whatever had been agreed between himself and Palpatine, Luke had not been privy to it, though clearly he was somehow integral - which made Luke all the less willing to play these games. "Palpatine is dead. Any agreement or accord you made with him died with him." Luke stated unconditionally.

Again D'Arca paused with a wary bow of his head, clearly searching for the right words, "As you say of course, Excellency, however… the accord was made by Palpatine with only your advantage in mind, Sir, and…"

"Palpatine did very little for my advantage, D'Arca, and if it were so very much to my favour I doubt that he would have had a reason for keeping this… supposed _accord_ from me."

"I think perhaps Emperor Palpatine did not wish you to feel unnecessarily pressured, Excellency. He believed that you would come to the same conclusion by your own logic."

"You mean he felt it would be easier to coerce rather than command, is that what you're trying to say?" Luke challenged, never one for prevaricating. "And what was he trying so hard to manoeuvre into being this time?"

D'Arca hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with such directness but, political chameleon that he was, he braced, clearly intending to let his own behaviour be shaped by the new Emperor's. "The Emperor felt it would be in your best interest for him to arrange an accord between yourself and the Royal House of D'Arca. This I thought you knew, Sir."

Which the man had already said several times, Luke reflected. It was the specifics which were worrying D'Arca- it was they he was constantly skirting round. "What kind of accord?"

"He sought, I believe, to more closely tie your own future to the House D'Arca. He believed such would underpin your political stability- that we would lend our considerable influence to your hand."

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Which is already your duty as loyal citizens."

"Of course, Excellency; we would always do all that we could to aid the Emperor. However… Palpatine, in his wisdom, felt that a more public statement of solidarity would give you the sound political and patrician foundations to command the Royal Houses."

"Are you telling me that the Royal Houses are disloyal?" It was of course the case; the Royal Houses were long-standing and entrenched and dissent was inevitable to some degree, as it always had been, even in Palpatine's reign. The Empire had existed for a quarter of a century - some of the Royal Houses could trace their bloodlines and their heritage back thousands of years, and whilst Luke was reasonably confident that none would openly challenge his actions as Emperor, he was also well aware that they could so very easily make his life - and more importantly his plans - difficult.

"No, no, Excellency, there is no open dissent, I assure you. But the D'Arca family have many connections and generations of familiarity and expertise in this field, and would be honoured to be allowed to commit all that experience to you in your new position."

He was doing the big sell, Luke knew; he really wanted this supposed accord to come off… which left Luke wondering what exactly the D'Arca's got out of the deal. In an effort to stop all this procrastination and get him to the point, Luke threw the man a bone.

"Your loyalty is already appreciated. Don't believe that I didn't value the support you have already provided. To continue such an… accord would of course be be beneficial. However…" he let loose what he hoped was an encouraging smile though from the look on D'Arca's face the man clearly felt he was looking into the eyes of a wolf. "I am unclear as to what exactly the House D'Arca gain from such an… accord. Aside from my gratitude of course."

"Which is sufficient in itself, Excellency." The man ingratiated, "Though the accord agreed with Emperor Palpatine on your behalf was for a more… formal acknowledgement which would be visible to all. A more binding one."

_Finally!_ "Go on?"

Beladon hesitated only a moment this time, "He felt… that the best way to cement the accord would be a marriage between yourself and the heir to the House D'Arca."

And there, right there, a myriad of tiny details fell into place for Luke-

The order from Palpatine, seeming so pointless at the time, to accompany him to the seldom-used Winter Palace a year ago.  
The 'coincidental' absence of Mara at the time, sent on a mission for the Emperor. The attendance of Beladon D'Arca's daughter Kiria at the Winter Palace retreat.  
The invitation from Beladon, extended for the first time there but several times since, that Luke should always feel free to avail himself of the hunting lodges or stately homes in any of his family's private estates. The curious insistence that this was of course an open invitation at any time to any of the D'Arca's many properties.  
His eagerness to speak to Luke - to be _seen_ to do so - in Court.  
Luke having been commanded to both speak with and lead the first dance with Kiria D'Arca in the last ball he had been ordered to attend whilst Palpatine was still Emperor - and finally, Beladon D'Arca's willingness to back Luke so actively when he came to power.

Beladon was putting forward a good act now of being surprised that Luke didn't already know, but the truth was he'd tripped himself up in this conversation already. When he first came in he was clearly nervous, aware of the fact that he was going to have to tell the new Emperor of significant plans made on his behalf without his knowledge or consent, and try to salvage what he could now that Palpatine, the only one capable of enforcing them, was gone.

Luke's automatic reaction was the desire to laugh in D'Arca's face; to dismiss this out of hand simply on principle. He took a sharp breath in to do so…

But something held him to silence at the last second; some rational voice at the back of his mind evaluating the advantages on offer. Was it cold logic- or was it the whisper of the Force.

He hesitated… considered.

The truth was it offered him a great deal; D'Arca had already helped stabilise his sovereignty in rushed, unforeseen circumstances. He didn't like the man, not one bit, but even the small changes Luke had enacted in the existing constitution had caused massive shockwaves throughout the ruling elite, and they were a fraction of his eventual intent. If he wanted to stabilise his reign and still push his plans forward then he was going to need some heavyweight political backing in an arena where his experience was limited. And a man of D'Arca's power would be a useful ally and an invaluable teacher, it couldn't be denied - and what better way to ensure D'Arca's complete commitment than to tie his own family's fate into Luke's?

At this point, luke knew he'd rather have D'Arca as an ally than an adversary, destabilising the already rocky arena - and if he did turn out to be a problem… well then didn't Luke's old Master always say to keep his enemies close?

Or was this how it always began, Luke reflected; deals made, compromises reached.

Palpatine didn't give a damn about Luke but he would have wanted to maintain the stability of his precious Empire - his Sith dynasty- when he was gone. Even though he didn't know at the time just how imminent that was, the deal which he'd struck with D'Arca would presumably have been for just that; to stabilise during the period of flux.

Luke could almost hear his old Master's arguments, could hear exactly the terms Palpatine would have quoted; that what Luke did within the privacy of the marriage or whether he bothered to maintain either the accord or the marriage when his power base was secured, Palpatine wouldn't have cared. What was important was that it was there when it would be needed, until Luke had established his reign.  
And he was right; D'Arca could provide access to a pre-existing hierarchy in which luke presently had little sway, a foundation to work and learn from, political experience and far-reaching connections which no-one in Luke's present entourage could provide. He didn't trust the man but as long as it was in both their interests it could be a useful tool, and that was what the marriage provided; it was relevant only in that it guaranteed D'Arca's obligation. Palpatine would have seen it as exactly that and no more- and he would have expected the same of his advocate.

Luke realised he was still staring at D'Arca, who was watching attentively, his face an odd mixture of hope, desperation and desire. He took a breath in again and when he spoke his voice was impassive and reserved… but it was all that D'Arca needed to hear;

"Tell me the details."

.  
.

That meeting had been almost a year ago and although Luke had said that he would deliberate, he knew he had come to the end of what could be reasonably considered such a period and D'Arca was here today looking for answers.

And to be fair, although he'd had no guarantees in that whole time, D'Arca had diligently maintained his support of the new Emperor.

Luke had used the time to take the 'accord' particulars away and discuss them privately with Nathan and Reece. Nathan, ever the romantic, had deplored the whole notion but Reece, always the realist, had seen the obvious advantages as Luke had, and when it became clear that Luke was seriously considering this Nathan had been as pragmatic as ever, offering unconditional support and a critical eye.

Luke wasn't stupid enough to believe that the details D'Arca provided would have been the details that he'd agreed with Palpatine; the crafty politician was definitely shrewd enough and bold enough to have shifted the deal in his favour by the time Luke found out what was actually going on - that was part of what made him so valuable - but if D'Arca wanted this deal then it would be on Luke's terms and not his, though he'd probably expected that.

Strangely it was only in his discussions with Nathan that Luke had realised that there was a third person in this contract, and he hadn't yet heard a single word of her opinion. Kiria D'Arca would have her life irrevocably changed by the… _accord -_ Luke could neither think nor name it as anything more yet - and he needed to know what she felt. He needed to speak to her face to face, because this would never be more than a political marriage - a formal arrangement to the benefit of two parties which may be annulled at any time - and he had to be sure that she understood that; he needed her to go into this with her eyes open..

Nathan had claimed Luke's concern was an attempt to assuage his own guilt, and perhaps it was, but no matter what the benefits, Luke found he couldn't step past this obstacle if Kiria D'Arca was unwilling or unsure. He was used to living empty shams and public charades if they achieved his goals. The question was, could she?

.

Beladon D'Arca walked slowly to join the Emperor at the bank of tall windows, careful to remain a respectful distance away as he looked out into the fresh spring morning. "They have forecast a warm summer this year, Excellency." He paused just slightly, "I always liked the height of Summer. It makes every event feel exceptional."

As usual, the Emperor didn't particularly appreciate his polite subtext. "Like a wedding perhaps?"

Beladon lowered his head just slightly, "At your Excellency's discretion of course."

The Emperor remained still and Beladon risked a sideways glance at the man. Save for the scars, both deep and superficial, his face still had the enviable, unlined luminosity of youth, making it difficult to assign all the disquieting rumours which whistled about Court to the slight, reclusive young man. But there was something about him, something in his eyes and the abrupt, smooth strength of his movements which gave him an undeniable edge and made even Beladon nervous. Palpatine had at least been predictable; the man stood beside him now was famously mercurial, spinning from emotionless detachment to intense outbursts in the blink of an eye.

In the years since Beladon had first seen the Emperor's protégé in Court he had changed so completely as to be almost unrecognisable. The youth who had stood with such patently uneasy disquiet behind the Emperor's throne had become a leader of men, emanating an effortless, confident power which broached no dissent, with glacial eyes which could reduce even veteran courtiers to abject silence in moments.

Which didn't discourage Beladon. He'd put two decades of faithful duty in at the old Emperor's side and now the opportunity to advance that position - to consolidate it - was so close he could taste it. The final reward for years of diligent service. He'd so nearly lost it all- had watched it fall away from his grasp with the announcement of Palpatine's death a year ago. It had been Kiria who had pursued it, unwilling to let the task she'd begun at the Winter Palace and continued at every opportunity in Court falter, strong enough and smart enough to cut her own path forward.

Beladon would have continued as the Emperor had already ordained, slowly trying to ease his beautiful, talented daughter into the new Emperor's life and hoping for the best. It was Kiria, claiming to know her quarry, who had suggested a more direct approach and though he'd had his doubts, having spoken to the new Emperor and remained as close as was possible since his accession, in retrospect Beladon knew his daughter was right. The new Emperor, unlike his predecessor, appreciated directness and responded to it favourably. As Kiria had predicted, he had taken his time and considered the advantages logically, no immediate, indignant outbursts or unconsidered refusals despite his obvious upper hand. She had done her homework and learned her subject.

Still it was a gamble, such directness, and all that Beladon could hope now was that the risk paid off. The Emperor tilted his head slightly without looking to Beladon, clearly at pains to underline that this was not yet an acceptance of anything, "I will speak to Kiria D'Arca in my apartments tonight, at seven."

At that he abruptly turned and walked to his desk, the audience clearly over as far as he was concerned.

Delighted, Beladon bowed low and backstepped, making a hasty exit from the room lest the unpredictable Emperor change his mind.

.

Luke sat rubbing his temples, watching Mara return as D'Arca made his exit with another deep bow to the Emperor, Mara affording him the smallest of unenthusiastic nods as they passed, making the long plait of her red hair drop forward over her shoulder as she raised one arched eyebrow at Luke curiously from her position by the door.

Mara - the only complication, as she always had been.

She was both his steadfast strength and his greatest weakness. But then hadn't his old Master always warned him that she would be the latter? Though anything which Palpatine said had to be treated with caution; he had a habit of making sure that his own prophesies came true. The wily old Sith had _placed_ her there to be a weakness, Luke knew; something to blame, when in fact Luke's fate was all his own making, the weaknesses his own. His compassion, his isolation, his need. His search for some kind of kinship with his father, knowing the risks. His desire for a closeness with Mara, despite Palpatine's warning.

And now once again she was a complication, a reason for him to hesitate when he felt such guilt at what he was about to do to her in the name of necessity. Because everything which the D'Arca's were offering he needed.

He could of course bide his time and gain wider support over several years, in which time the present staus-quo would continue, the mindset of both Imperials and Rebels would polarise further, the death-toll would mount and Luke would eventually have to destroy the rebellion, and in doing so, the opportunity they presented. If he was to do this, it needed to be now; once he had lost the intiative, it was gone forever. He hadn't been lying to Leia when he'd said that this was a defining moment; a chance that would never come again. And one way or another, whether it was by working with Leia or against her, he would take it.

And if he did, to have the D'Arca's wide-ranging influence throughout the other Royal Houses in the Core Systems and beyond at his disposal would be an unexpected windfall which may possibly offset Luke's unexpected rise to power. He'd taken the time to lay such foundations with the military, but had been robbed of the time necessary to lay foundations within the Royal Houses. Of course, like Leia's rebellion, Luke didn't truly _need_ the political minefield which was the Royal Houses either; he was well aware that he could use the military to push any change through. Despite the occasional dissenting Moff, he still had their unwavering support. but that was rather missing the point.

Still, meanwhile, the very reason why he wanted to use the Royal Houses - their power at a planetary level in terms of independant leadership - meant that they were a force to be reckoned with in political terms if Luke chose not to simply ride rough-shod over them as his old Master always had. Luke _wanted_ their dissent; their willingness to question and challenge as they always had- just not right now.

D'Arca's deal offered a short-cut to control them, which gave Luke everything he needed on a plate; guaranteed support, because if they were tied to him, it would be as much in the interest of the D'Arca's to maintain stability as it would be in his. They had stood by him when he had first come to power, using their long-standing influence to draw the Royal Houses behind them in a persuasive demonstration of their political influence and now, aware only of his present position and not his future intentions, they were offering a contract which would ensure their support for years to come, whether they agreed with his plans or not.

All he had to do was marry Kiria D'Arca. If he did that, he would have them, and through them, acceptance into and support from the insular, elitist Royal Houses.

And all he had to do was marry Kiria D'Arca. She was beautiful, clever, witty… it was hardly an onerous task. He didn't know her that well, but what little time he'd spent in her company he had been comfortable enough, and she genuinely seemed to enjoy his. And even that didn't matter; this was a pact, nothing more. Their obligations to each-other consisted of turning up on the day. So why was this so hard? It was a contract, made binding by a legal commitment. _Legal_, not physical, not spiritual. And tonight he would ensure that D'Arca realized that too; she struck him as an intelligent woman, not given to bouts of romantic delusion.

Luke sighed, leaning forward to rub at the bridge of his nose; so why, every time he closed his eyes, finally sure it was the right thing to do, did Luke see sharp, forest-green eyes and a blaze of red-gold hair? Because there it was again; his ultimate weakness. She could have been a strength- she _should_ have been a strength, but when he'd finally given her his trust, she'd betrayed him. Within hours she'd told the Emperor everything, knowing there would be dire consequences. He couldn't trust her. That was the fact; he _couldn't trust her_. Everything else was irrelevant; every other feeling; every other desire. She'd cost him everything- and he couldn't bring himself to give her that chance again.

"_Trust is a weakness,"_ Palpatine had scolded again and again; had laid bare the weakness and the painful cost of such intolerable failings. Even today, with his old Master long gone, Luke still tried to scourge himself of such flaws- or were they flaws at all? Were they simply humanity? A way for Palpatine to manipulate him by asking the impossible?

Always with Palpatine it was games within games, giving Luke what he needed then showing him the error of his need, making him push it away. Trying to convince him that the flaws were of his own making, that it was all his fault-

But some things were his own fault… it was his weakness that had caused the death of his father; it was after all he who had allowed his father in, seeking some bond. He who had allowed Mara close because he thought he could trust her. It was _his_ weakness which had caused his father's death. _His_ weakness that had set all of this in motion.

And now, knowing that, was he doubling that fault in allowing Mara to stay- _allowing_ himself that weakness still?

Surely then, this arrangement was better. No emotional commitment needed; a simple business proposition. No emotion, no liability, no weakness. Only the facts; the stability he required which they would provide- the kudos his position offered them in return. There had been no shortage of other offers; pretty much anyone with a daughter of marriable age had taken the slightest opportunity to present them to the new Emperor in knowing, hopeful tones. But this was by far the best deal on the table and if nothing else, it would cease the endless gossip.

And cut Mara out of his life. Achieve by default the one thing which Luke knew he could not do himself.

Because despite everything some part of him still wanted to go to her now and gather her up in his arms and tell her that he…… that he still wanted, that he still needed. Take her hand and run. Just run until they reached the end of the galaxy.

But he'd made that offer once, on the eve of his accession to Emperor; _"Come with me- we'll leave now, tonight." _

The offer to leave all this behind and live normal lives and be normal people. Grow old and care for each other and… what? He didn't even know; didn't even remember what normal people did anymore. It didn't matter; she'd wanted him to stay. Be Emperor. Rule, as Palpatine had. She'd wanted the man she'd spent her whole life revering and serving. She'd wanted Luke as well, he knew that, but she'd wanted more. Neither was ever enough- she wanted both.

So he'd stayed. Not completely because of her, he'd be lying if he claimed that. But if she'd said yes in that moment; if she'd said to start the engines of the scoutship and just fly out of there without ever looking back, he would have done so as the words left her mouth, without hesitation. But she hadn't.

So he'd stayed.…

And every single day since he'd struggled to balance on the knife-edge between Light and Darkness. But then it was an old skill even then, to hold himself together, smooth the cracks by force of will, set his eye on the goal and just powered ahead as he'd always been able to do. Nothing was healed, nothing was dealt with, the cracks were still there beneath the façade, fractures too deep to repair. Old wounds, most, inflicted long ago in agonising, slow slivers, increment by grating, ripping increment. And somehow, somewhere along the way, just to endure one more day, he'd become completely disassociated from the pilot who'd been dragged down to the cells below the Palace.

Somehow…. he'd left Luke Skywalker in that cell. Had to, simply to survive. Become a completely different person, even he saw that. The Emperor's wolf; his advocate. Powerful and potent, imposing and respected- but just as trapped and as isolated here as the Rebel pilot had ever been. And over the years those disparate personalities had become more and more polarised, he knew that- could see it himself though he was powerless to stop it. Tormented and tortured, he'd had everything that he was ripped from him, and in a final effort to hold on to some semblance of sanity he'd relinquished it. But it hadn't relinquished him.

The naïve pilot who'd been dragged down to the cells below the Palace still occasionally whispered… and some part of him still couldn't help but listen. Much as it tore him apart to do so.

He remembered vividly the moment when everything changed. When he faced Palpatine, knowing the black-hearted Sith had killed his father with neither pity nor remorse. Remembered the moment- the instant that he knew he would give _anything_, pay _any_ price to bring his father's murderer down.

And he'd known what that price was. The decision he'd made wasn't blind.

When he had duelled Vader four years earlier, Luke hadn't truly given in to the Dark Side; he had, in that final moment, been unable to kill his father - had stepped back. Yes, he'd come close, but he'd stepped back from the precipice. And spent the next five years torn between Darkness and conscience, Palpatine goading and guiding him on.

Until he turned on his Master… and this time- this time he'd truly _wanted_ it. So much that he was prepared to give anything for it…

So he'd finally embraced - truly embraced, without reservation or coercion - the Dark Side, because it offered him the chance to achieve all that he desired; Palpatine's destruction. His thoughts hadn't for one moment moved beyond that single driving goal. No ulterior motive, no long-term plan; quite the opposite in fact. In that moment, he'd been willing to sell all his intentions; his future and the Empire's, in that bleak moment, he'd been willing to sell them all just to hurt Palpatine. To stop the man who had so pitilessly destroyed his father's life and his own. For that, in that moment, he would gladly have paid any price-

and he had – the most costly price of all.

He paid it anew every single day, in his steely determination to fulfil the vow he'd made to the bitter, rancorous old man who had so pitilessly ripped his life apart. He paid it knowingly. Willingly.

So somewhere inside, every day since, he had to wonder;

Had Palpatine won anyway?

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	9. Chapter 9

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It hadn't gone well. But then, for the Commander in Chief of the Rebel Alliance to admit that she'd gone out on a mission that she'd conveniently forgotten to mention to her own Chiefs of Staff was never really going to go down that well, if you asked Han.

And really, that was the high point. It pretty much went downhill from there. And when it wasn't going downhill, Madine and his supporters were putting their all into re-aiming it that way.

"What is their problem?" Han grumbled, as he and Leia finally split off from the others to head down a quieter side-corridor onboard Home-one.

Leia shrugged, trying hard to remain indifferent. "They had a point."

"Yeah? Well I must've missed it in between all of Madine's posturing."

Leia had to smile, "He was on-form today. But then I guess I gave him something to aim at."

Han didn't mention that she could've given them a whole lot more. If they'd known just who it turned out had been waiting for Leia, they'd've probably keeled over. Except for Madine of course, who would no doubt have tried to get his own Commander in Chief arrested for treason… then he'd've tried to blame it on Han somehow; he generally tried to make pretty much anything else that happened around here stick. Though actually he'd been letting up of late… which was somehow worse.

She hadn't told them of course. She hadn't even told Han for two days, and when she did tell Han, he was disturbed by his own ambivalence in those first few seconds, uncomfortable with the thought that Luke might now turn his attention to Leia.

"Are you gonna tell them?" he asked at last.

Leia pursed her lips, fine frown lines wrinkling her brow, "When I'm ready – when the time's right."

"There's a right time for that?"

"There's a wrong time." Leia countered, "And that's now." It had been… surprisingly easy to withhold that vital fact. Perhaps because she didn't want to have to deal with all the conflicts and contradictions it embodied right now. Probably because she didn't want to face another round with Madine, Leia reflected wryly.

Or maybe she didn't want to be told she couldn't go back… Leia frowned at that; was it true?

No… no, the one person she had discussed it with was Tag Massa, her Intel chief, and Massa sure didn't want her to go back. In fact she'd turned on Han, unable to believe he'd let Leia go in the first place. It had taken long minutes to calm her down… but little to persuade her to hold her silence on this; Massa had always looked after Leia's interests, she knew. Always looked out for her.

"When you tell Madine, can I be there to see if his head explodes?" Han asked glibly.

Leia rolled her eyes, "I thought he was your new best buddy?"

Madine had made several approaches to Han in the last few months, Leia knew, ostensibly overtures to friendship in which he made all the right noises. Still, Han was wary, and if there was one thing Han Solo had, it was a honed sense of survival; if he thought Madine was up to something, then Leia believed him. What it was, she didn't know. Han had run through everything Madine had spoken about, but it was all vague; general talk well within safe bounds. The past mostly; old missions, old successes and failures, Mon Mothma and the impact of her loss, Han and Leia's capture by the Empire at Bespin. Nothing specific.

"Yeah, we're regular pals now." Han dismissed dryly. "In fact, he's put in a request for Blue Wing to lead the mission on his little jaunt out to Fondor."

"The shipyards." Leia winced; she'd sanctioned the planned attack months earlier and now felt some stab of guilt after her meeting with Luke. She blinked quickly, shaking her head in annoyance; _with_ _the Emperor_. "Well we can't stop it now."

"Are you sayin' you would have?" Han asked, tone deceptively light.

"Yes. No…" Leia shook her head again, "I just don't know. How can I believe him – how can I believe anything he says?"

"You tell me." Han said, "Then tell him and see what he does. You might be surprised."

"I can't go back, not yet." Leia said, "If I do, I need to let Fondor blow over first."

"I think the kid's past taking stuff like that personally." Han said, "If he did, he wouldn't have spoken to you in the first place."

"Unless his offer isn't genuine."

"If his offer wasn't genuine why do it at all? Why not just shoot us out of orbit when we arrived, or arrest you on the station?"

"I don't know. I don't know what he gains, but it must be something."

"You know, you trust him more than you think."

Leia frowned, "Why do you say that?"

"If you didn't, you would have told 'em all exactly who you met on Devaron. But you wanted to give him a chance – the chance he wouldn't have had with Madine and you know it."

"Madine's a soldier." Leia said impassively, "He thinks the only way to stop this is by force."

Han glanced to her, surprised at her words, "You don't think he's right? Because you should tell me now before I go squeeze my ass back into that A-Wing cockpit for another ten-hour shift."

Leia ignored his sarcastic tone; he wouldn't be Han without it. "I think that would have been the only way to stop Palpatine; it's all he understood. Luke… I don't know. I guess I thought… hoped…" she shrugged again, that strange, surreal meeting foremost in her thoughts. "I just don't know."

Was it real? Was anything he'd said real? Han wanted to believe because he and Luke had a history, but Massa… despite her official line, Leia had a feeling that privately, Massa felt pretty much the same- and there was no connection there; no history. "But it's pretty much academic now, all things considered."

"Well then why is he talking to you?"

Leia sighed, feeling this conversation, as well as her every thought on Luke, was going round and round in circles. _The Emperor_, damn it! Not Luke, the Emperor!

Han glanced to her, "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

" 'Cos you were muttering to yourself just then."

"I'm fine." Leia repeated, "But thanks for pointing that out."

They walked on in silence for a few steps before Han spoke again.

"You were dreaming again last night."

Leia faltered just slightly, the recurring image of the wolf coming vividly to mind, though until Han had just spoken, she'd completely forgotten. She'd had the dreams since Alderaan, in endless permutations. The only constant remained the wolf, its sleek black fur catching the moonlight, one moment there, the next lost in her shadow, circling Leia so closely that she heard its breath, heard its claws on the stone beneath her feet. Always there, in her shadow…

"It was the wolf." Leia admitted, "I dreamed of the wolf."

"What happened?"

Leia shook her head, the dream at once intensely real and yet as vague and shifting as firesmoke. "I tried… I tried to reach out to it again."

Han had pointed out that in all the dreams Leia had ever had, she'd never once reached out to the wolf. In almost a decade of dreams, it had never once attacked her, and she had never once tried to reach out to it, as if some uneasy standoff was maintained. Maybe it was time to break the status-quo, he'd said. It had never once attacked her. It had caused havoc and chaos and fear and fury around her, but in every single dream she had remained unharmed.

"Did you do it?" Han asked quietly.

Leia nodded, wrapping her arms about herself, "When I reached out to it… it just sat on its haunches in front of me and waited…"

The courage, the resolve it had taken for Leia to reach out to the wolf had been months in the making. So many times she'd reached out then been unable to touch that living shadow. And when she did it, when she finally reached out to rest the tips of trembling fingers against its neck, its fur was thick and dense, warm close to its heated skin, and she'd gathered it between her fingers as they ran through it, smooth against her palm…

And something amazing had happened.

"It turned into a man, knelt with one knee on the floor."

"A man?"

Leia shook her head in frustration, as lost with this as Han was, "It… _he_ was wearing a heavy black cloak with a… a wolf-skin cowl, and it was completely dark beneath it, like the sky in the dead of night. I couldn't quite see his face. I kept… I kept trying to kneel; trying to kneel down and reach out to touch his face…but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. I couldn't bring myself to reach beneath that fur cowl."

She shivered involuntarily, her whole body trembling for a second, and Han pursed his lips, wishing that there were more he could do. It had been with her as long as he'd known her, the dream of the wolf, and he knew how much it disturbed her.

He pulled his jacket off and wrapped it round her shoulders, pulling her to him in the momentarily quiet of the corridor. "Here. I've heard it's what all the best-dressed royalty are wearing this season."

She smiled, pulled from her reverie by his chivalry. "Very retro."

"I like to call it a classic." He grinned, "Well-loved."

"By loved you mean dragged across the floor, walked on, torn, worn and tattered."

"Hey, that baby's in her prime – just like me."

Leia nodded knowingly, "Just like you."

"I gotta go. I'm always late for briefings and I'm the one who's supposed to be giving 'em. You gonna be okay?"

She nodded, reassured.

He backstepped down the corridor towards the main hangar, pointing to his jacket, "Hey don't get too attached to that high-end style statement – I'm gonna want it back."

Leia tilted her head, "Believe me flyboy, you can have it."

Walking back toward the Command Center, Leia slipped her arms into Han's battered old jacket, the weight and the feel of it comforting, its size completely engulfing her. Smiling, she tucked her hands into the deep pockets and her finger caught against something, nail embedding into the sticky surface. Pulling a face, she dragged her hand out and shook it until the old piece of unwrapped, lint-covered candy came free, a fine roll of it sticking beneath her nails. Typical.

Fumbling through the other pockets, she emptied them of an assortment of wrappers, 'tech fuses, half a broken memory chip, two ticket stubs, a half-smoked spice stick and indeterminate fluff. Muttering, Leia undid the breast pockets and pulled a piece of torn-edged flimsiplast card out from one, folded in half to fit.

Opening it stopped her dead in the corridor, the shock holding her attention completely, the bustle of people around her fading to nothing. In her hand, creased and battered, its corners worn and the image lost in places, was an old-fashioned, two-D image.

They'd been released in limited numbers on the event of the new Emperor's first year in office, their allocation carefully controlled, presented only to a select group to make sure that they became a sought-after commodity before they were even distributed. How Han had come by one Leia didn't know, but it seemed genuine, the official seal in the lower corner still intact. The image itself, two-dimensional and printed onto foiled flimsiplast with a sepia tone to hint at age and continuity, held Leia's gaze completely, her smile melting away.

It was Luke…

But this wasn't the shy, unassuming farmboy she thought she'd known so well. It wasn't the fledgling pilot who'd launched against the Death Star. It wasn't the seasoned Alliance Wing Commander who'd flown countless missions against a hostile enemy without ever loosing his nerve, or the newly-commissioned Unit Commander still flying with the Rogues when they'd bugged out of Hoth.

It wasn't even the image of the newly-declared Emperor that had been issued on the day of his investiture, formal and stilted and ill at ease. That had been a carefully-arranged portrait immediately following the ceremony in what Leia knew was the old Throne Room, the new Emperor stood stiffly before richly-inlaid gilded and enamelled panels, dressed in a long, richly-embroidered cloak lined in pure white garral-fur, the gold-on-black woven train dripping down the steps of the dais beside him. In heavy chains of office and gem-encrusted insignia he'd looked guarded, uncomfortable even, his hands tightly clasped at his sides, his back unnaturally straight, every aspect of the formal image clearly carefully orchestrated and manipulated to illustrate the epitome of Imperial monarchy.

This one… this one, released only a year later, was a very different image. Superficially so similar, it nevertheless told a very different story. This time there was no Throne Room, there were no carefully-orchestrated connections to the old regime, though the man in the image was absolutely the Emperor.

But this time, the man stood casually but confidently on an open balcony, the Capital behind him, the rising sun at his back. He wore a high, stand-collared dress suit, but the insignia of his station were less, toned down to a few restrained Order stars worn on the impeccably-fitted dress jacket, a single chain of office about his shoulders. The carefully-arranged folds of that sumptuous, heavy, fur-lined cloak were gone too. This time his mantle was simpler; fine, black vinesilk with a smooth white lining. The Imperial Arms were still embroidered on its left breast, but the cloak was left to fall where it willed, no careful arrangement here, no fastidious composition or elaborate orchestrations tolerated.

This was very clearly a man who was no longer willing to be dictated to. This was a man comfortable with his position and his power. This was a man who felt he had nothing to prove anymore, with a confidence and a bearing which underscored those facts with quiet, contained, composure. But one thing remained; the Emperor still held a lightsaber in his hand.

Leia reached out to run her finger gently over the worn image, remembering vividly watching in rapt silence as the man she had been so close to was named Emperor... was it really the same person? Looking at the image now, she could see only the barest resemblance between the easy-going, self-effacing pilot and the stately, compelling man who stared out from the image with such insular intensity. Some part of her doubted, some part of her wished…

Was this the man she knew? The same man who had spent four weeks pay on a bottle of mead from the destroyed Alderaan and given it to her just to see her face when he did so? Four weeks pay!!

Had it been the incredible, selfless gesture she'd thought… or was it simply that the astronomical price didn't matter, not to him – not to someone who'd grown up in the limitless, opulent affluence of the Imperial Palace.

Was it the selfless gift of a much-missed friend… or was it the cold manipulations of Palpatine's agent?

Was it benevolent compassion- or nothing at all.

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**CHAPTER FIVE**

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On her way between the staff offices and the library in Luke's privy apartments that evening, Mara frowned, pausing to listen to the earbud comm she wore which was linked into the security channels.

_Who_ had they just said was at the main doors?

She turned about and made her way quickly to the lofty domed cupola which intersected the main corridors… and sure enough, there she was.

Kiria D'Arca. Being politely shown to the White Drawing Room, judging from her direction. Seeing Mara, Kiria narrowed almond eyes and drew herself up to her full height, which was hardly tall, though she exuded a kind of innate superiority through the act.

Never one to be browbeaten, Mara stopped, head on one side in her best, _I've seen it all before_ pose, and the two women passed with not a single word spoken and yet volumes communicated.

It was only when the petite woman had passed that Mara allowed herself any sign of alarm, turning to watch her glide onwards unperturbed, the short train of her tastefully refined ruby red gown rustling on the marble floors, that river of glossy raven hair falling in smooth perfection down her back.

What the hell was _she_ doing here- in Luke's private apartments no less! Nobody came to Luke's private apartments. Everybody was seen in the Cabinet or the State Rooms.

Mara turned mechanically and walked on, her heart pounding. The ambitious socialite had been linked to Luke many times in the past across the HoloNet, and Mara wouldn't put it past her to have engineered the gossip herself, in the hope of putting some ideas in Luke's head. Certainly D'arca had made repeated stays at the Palace towards the end of Palpatine's reign. At the time, Luke had only teased her for her jealousy. It was nothing, he'd always assured her, Palpatine playing his games, most likely. A subject for wry amusement between the secret lovers. But Kiria's attendance at the Palace had continued… and now Palpatine was long gone and D'Arca was still here and it didn't seem so very funny any more.

She shook her head, ordering her racing imagination to quiet. It was probably an innocent meeting. The woman had been a frequent visitor to the Palace in the last two years- her family even held an apartment here at Luke's indulgence and her father could, Mara supposed, be considered a member of Luke's extended retinue, lending his political prowess to the new Emperor with surprising zeal. Yes, she could have any number of reasons to visit the Palace… how many guests stayed there at any given time? Dozens, easily.

But here- in Luke's apartments…

A knot of foreboding tightened into Mara's stomach and pushed the air from her lungs. This wasn't good; for Luke to see her here- to allow others to see her here… this wasn't good.

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Kiria held herself tall as she passed the Jade woman, one of Palpatine's old agents long associated with Skywalker in whispered tones throughout the Palace.

She was well aware that this would be her main opposition; though there was no proof either way it was still occasionally whispered that the new Emperor was having a secret affair with his personal bodyguard- among others. Still, Kiria was inclined to believe this particular rumour and was hoping that a few carefully phrased questions and some close scrutiny would afford her the facts tonight.

Whatever the truth, Jade was the only other woman close to the Emperor, a member of his inner retinue long before his accession, and so either way she was a force to be reckoned with.

The tall double doors at the end of the corridor opened onto a vast, coffer-ceiling room, its restrained tones of cool, creamy white with accents of rose gold soothing despite its grand dimensions. But then given her status, Kiria was used to living on such a scale so it was the room's occupant rather than its magnificence which held her eye.

Taking a deep breath and ordering herself to concentrate, she stepped forward and bowed correctly, waiting for the doors to be closed so that they were alone before she stepped forward.

Everything she knew about this man told her that she would have to be on her guard; that he didn't appreciate wordplay or prevarication. _Speak the truth. No avoidances and absolutely no lies._

"Excellency; it's a pleasure to meet you again." Uncertain when he said nothing she glanced about the room, "This is a beautiful chamber- so very light and restful."

_Stop it! Stop speaking just to fill the silence! He already knows why you're here- and he knows that you know. Speak the truth; say what's in your head. They say he can tell anyway. _"Forgive me- I find I'm rather nervous tonight."

He smiled slightly at that, glancing down, and Kiria relaxed a fraction; he wasn't trying to be awkward then. Perhaps he had as little idea of what to say as she did.

"Yes, uncharted territory does that." he said graciously, and Kiria flashed him her best smile, made exceptional by the fact that she genuinely meant it.

The slightest of frowns shadowed his face, as if he were uncomfortable at that, before he continued in neutral tones. "I presume that your father has discussed with you exactly why you are here."

"Yes, Excellency."

Again that impassive tone after a brief silence; "I would have said I feel honoured but I understand the choice was not yours either."

_No __punches pulled there__,_ Kiri reflected.

"However, that doesn't mean to say I can't appreciate the advantages." he continued.

She would have hoped for a double-entendre there but saw no such thing in his eyes, though his next word, spoken with a straight face but a hint of amusement, revealed that he too had seen it, "Politically."

So that was what this was for; this resolute, detached tone and businesslike manner. He wanted it all out in the open, cards on the table. This was a strategic contract for him and nothing more. "Yes, it seems we have a great deal to offer each other- politically." She echoed, hoping to clarify her understanding.

He remained silent and she took the opportunity to glance at him, taking in that tense, kinetic stillness which always emanated from him; that distant air which he wore like a shield. What was underneath?

He was impeccably dressed as ever, in a dark high-collared suit with military boots, the slightest line of a white linen shirt visible at his neck and cuffs. All very formal, as he always was, everything calculated to keep people at a distance.

She'd heard that when practicing lightsaber, as he did almost nightly, in the heat of summer he would occasionally strip off his white athletic shirt and practice in only his fitted trousers, and could occasionally be seen wandering back through the West Tower in the same way, a towel about his shoulders, though Kiria couldn't imagine such a thing of the man she saw before her now. Or perhaps she could; he was strong and straight, wide at the shoulder and slim at his hips, the carefully tailored suits accentuating his athletic form… yes, she could very well imagine that.

Realising her thoughts were straying, she ordered her mind back to the moment and glanced back to those coolly calculating eyes, framed by that heavily-scarred face, not a hint of emotion visible.

Not a hint of emotion…

She had just taken her time to peruse him from head to toe and if his abilities were true, he had doubtless sensed every sensation that had passed through her at that, but if it roused any reciprocal feelings from the man stood before her, then he hid them _very_ well. She wondered momentarily at others in his entourage with whom a rapport had been claimed in quiet whispers, then dismissed them, staying with her intuition.

Kiria hesitated, then gathered her courage. "Forgive me Excellency- may I speak candidly?"

His chin rose a fraction, "Of course."

"Sir, I am well aware of the fact that this… accord was not of your own suggestion, but I don't believe that renders it invalid as a concept. I appreciate that you are viewing this simply as a political contract and I'm happy to do the same. I expect no more from it or from you. If that's your concern, then rest assured I understand what's going on. I'm not stupid and I'm not naïve."

He broke into a genuine smile, head tilting slightly in acquiescence and she realised that somehow, for an instant, she'd gotten through all those shields.

"No- I don't think that for a moment."

It occurred to Kiria that if the Emperor was in a relationship with Jade then it would be because he was attracted to her. He could have anybody – anyone at all. The fact that he'd _chosen_ Jade meant something. Kiria wanted to slap her head for not realising sooner; Jade was well-known within the Palace for speaking her mind and consequences be damned. She never held back and she never sugar-coated. She was a strong, opinionated woman with a mind of her own and no reluctance to share the views within it. _That_ was what Skywalker favoured; that was what he'd chosen with every possible selection on the menu and that was what he'd just responded to in herself.

She smiled, altering her stance accordingly, tailoring her actions to his preference with the ease of a practised socialite. "I appreciate, as I'm sure you do, that as Empress I and my family would hold a vested interest in maintaining the status-quo as it presently stands. I have aspirations, for myself, for my family and for the Empire, and based on your actions to date I feel they are comparable to your own. I believe that you will do only what you see as genuinely constructive and beneficial to your Empire, and I respect that; I would like to be a part of it. We have matching goals, Excellency, and I will do everything in my power to maintain your ability to reach them. I will be what you need me to be, politically, publicly and privately. We would be a good _working_ partnership, which is, I'm sure, what we both desire of this association."

She paused, the momentary hesitance betraying her nervousness despite the confident, self-possessed tone of her voice, the Emperor's expression having changed not a whit, any hint of his true thoughts perfectly concealed.

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Luke remained still, aware that something had changed in D'Arca's mental stance. It was an impressive speech, all the more so because he sensed its impromptu nature.

He felt his guilt slowly easing as he got the measure of Kiria D'Arca. He'd been in her company many times, but before now she'd been a distant presence at the edge of his awareness, one of the large group of ambitious individuals who existed at the periphery of the social elite who had long used the Palace as their battle-ground. As such, above Palpatine's direct order, he'd never really bothered to notice her; seldom even spoken to her and never in this way, with so much at stake, all the cards on the table. Now, reaching out and getting a sense of the woman behind her words, he felt himself settling into this situation with far more ease.

To date, Kiria D'Arca had been all manners and front, but now as he began to look beneath he saw something far more reassuring. Yes, she was manipulative - or trying to be - but she was fighting for something which she clearly very much wanted, and within her words he'd sensed a basic honesty which gave him hope that he may be looking at a possible collaborator, if not necessarily for the reasons she claimed.

If she gained her prize, he was pretty sure that she'd remain committed to doing everything in her considerable ability to maintain Luke's power base and therefore her own, even when he began to make far-reaching changes to the basic principles of Palpatine's Empire. She very clearly wanted to be Empress, aware of the kudos and the power it would afford her family- and herself. And more importantly she was willing to do whatever it took to gain and to hold onto that title. Including backing Luke in whatever action he saw fit. So in her own way she wasn't lying when she said they had similar goals; as long as he was Emperor his goals served her ambition, so she would back them unconditionally, whatever they were. It was a simple as that. Which was, he supposed, all that he could hope for in such a business deal.

"That's a very persuasive speech." He said at last into the lingering silence.

"Perhaps because it comes from the heart." Kiria said simply in reply.

_The heart. _"You understand that this will be nothing more than a political contract?"

.

Kiria paused then took the chance, "I understand that you may have pre-existing… associations, and I have no desire or claim to change them."

She watched him closely but still his face gave nothing away. Then again she hadn't expected it to; as she searched his eyes, her gaze was drawn once again to the pale, uneven scar to the right side of his face, beginning above his eyebrow and trailing a jagged, broken line down his cheek and through his lips to trail off at his chin, continuing in a deep indent to the side of his throat, the tip of which was just visible above that perfectly-tailored collar. He had held the scar as long as she'd known of him, though she'd seen earlier images of him without it. He'd seemed so youthful by comparison, the severity of the scar lending gravitas to a still-young face… perhaps that was why he kept it. She would… no. She'd been about to conclude that she would ask him one day, but she couldn't ever imagine doing such a thing; getting past enough of those shields to learn the truth.

He glanced aside beneath her study, though she doubted it would be from discomfort; as Heir and now Emperor he was probably very accustomed to the stares of others. Uncomfortable at his pensive silence, Kiria tried again to pull the Emperor into conversation, "Is there perhaps something you would like to ask me?"

"No. Yes-" he said, the one following immediately on the tail of the other. "When we first met in the Winter Palace– did you know of this even then?"

"No Excellency, I did not." she assured.

"That's not the full answer." he said, no chastisement in his voice but absolutely assured of that fact. Kiria felt herself straighten slightly beneath that perceptive mind, uncomfortably exposed, but he held those searching eyes on her, making no apology.

"No-one had said such, but I… admit that I accepted the invitation to the Winter Palace with the sole aim of making an impression on you." His expression changed not a whit– and why did that make her more nervous, not less? "In my defence, I thought that you must have requested my presence or you would not yourself have been present – you had gained your reputation for your military service rather than your political attendance."

The slightest tilt of his head was all he needed to express his doubt and force a further confession from her, "Perhaps I felt that Emperor Palpatine had some kind of hand in the matter, but since you were there I thought…" Kiria trailed off, freshly uncertain, before finding her centre again, angry at herself for her uncharacteristic lack of poise. "May I ask a question?"

He raised his eyebrows, but nodded consent.

"When we spoke at the reception to launch the Patriot, you claimed you did not remember our first meeting at the Winter Palace. You seem to have regained the memory."

"That bothered you?" he asked neutrally then, before Kiria could answer, he turned away, tone brusque, all business again. "I'm afraid you were caught up in wider schemes. My private and political lives remain inextricably entwined. If you find that unnerving then perhaps this is not the… career for you."

"I find it fascinating – in every facet." Kiria countered, holding his eye.

He stared at her for long seconds, and when he spoke his tone was anything but amused, "I think you fail to realize just how… undesirable a thing I consider it, Lady Kiria. My personal life and my public role are not facets to be merged – it leads so easily to misunderstandings."

It had, in hindsight, been exactly the wrong thing for her to say, Kiria realized. She'd just spent her whole time here reassuring him that she understood the fact that this was a business arrangement, no more, then she'd out and out flirted with him and told him that she saw no difference between his public and personal lives. It was hardly surprising that he'd shot her down and she was now back to square one… worse even, because now he was less sure of her than when she'd come in.

"You're right – I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

He glanced down, looked away, his silence speaking volumes, and Kiria could see her opportunity drifting away by her own hand. Not because he didn't view the arrangement as beneficial, Kiria knew, but because… what? It was any suggestion of a more personal connection that brought those shields up.

Even as Heir, he was well known for being a private man, his close entourage small and select, and his accession to Emperor would only have increased the outside pressure from those hoping to curry favour and secure a place in the new regime. Was his discomfort at her attempted familiarity because he personally chose those he allowed close… or was the truth that he allowed no-one close?

Or was it simply that the position she was vying for was already at least partially filled?

Aware that this would be her only chance, Kiria steeled her nerves and pressed on, offering her final persuasion. "As you said Excellency, this would be a practical partnership and nothing more. Whatever private associations that you have are of course your own business, though I would appreciate your Excellency's discretion in this. If I may; this marriage is about public and legal recognition of your spouse- your Empress. Whom you choose as your consort is a private matter."

And there it was; the clause she had privately been unwilling to give on unless she believed it absolutely necessary. The clause that Palpatine had demanded.

But the new Emperor was notorious for digging his heels in and flouting expectations or outside pressure when he was The Heir, and the longer this matter remained unresolved, the more likely it was to spiral from the Kiria's control. Her greatest fear was that he would face pressure from his own advisors - and indeed her father - and if he remained true to his reputation he may simply elect to nullify all attempts to corner him and secretly wed Jade, thus robbing Kiria of any legal claim to the position of Empress.

He may offer the sham of an official marriage but if he'd already married the Jade woman then all of Kiria's lawful claims would be questionable. Even if the new Emperor changed the law to accommodate her position, it would remain ambiguous in the eyes of the stubbornly traditionalist Royal Houses and since it was here that the D'Arca's held their power base it was here that the particulars of the accord would be tried and scrutinised.

A consort was a consort, nothing more; in such a position, Jade would be dismissed as little more than a dalliance on the part of the Emperor. But if he formalised their union in any way…

It would be an intolerable situation for Kiria to enter into any kind of contract under those circumstances. Her claim to title – and more importantly that of any children she may bear – would always be in dispute. For Palpatine the line of heredity had been a non-negotiable stipulation, and not in her favour. But Palpatine was gone, and with him the constraints which would have ordained the line of heir apparent. For now, she should be pragmatic; this would do. The particulars could be sorted out and dealt with at leisure once her marriage and her position had been legally ratified. After that, she had literally years to slowly and subtly correct any and all undesired circumstances.

She had been hoping – unreasonably, she realized, the more she spoke to him – that her forthrightness would force the same from him; that he would either confirm or deny his supposed relationship with his bodyguard and clarify once and for all the ground underfoot. She should have known better; Palpatine had constantly changed the rules in every play he made, and his Heir would be more than familiar with both experiencing it and instigating it. As it was, he simply studied her closely for long seconds, mismatched eyes unblinking.

"That's quite a compromise." he said at last, still studying her.

"Most things of true value in life are." she replied – and for some reason that triggered a genuine smile in him, sufficient that he glanced down to hide it. When he looked up again, she sensed an altogether more confident, convinced attitude.

"Compromise is good." He said at last, "Compromise I understand."

"Compromise it is then." Kiria stated firmly, holding his eye.

He nodded once, and for a split second she thought he might give his answer here and now – though even as the thought occurred, she knew better. Instead when he spoke, his brisk tone indicated that the audience was concluding, "Well, this has been… interesting."

She smiled and chanced her nerve, "Yes– uncharted territory often is."

He didn't miss the reference and this time his smile came easier, the genuine, unguarded effect appealing.

"Is there anything else you would like to ask of me, Excellency?" she asked, not wishing to overstay her welcome.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, "May I call you Kiria?"

Now it was her turn to feel that smile spread slowly across her face, "I would be honoured, Excellency."

She bowed politely and backstepped and, turning away, was halfway across the room before the question she anticipated was finally issued.

"Do you still intend to call me Excellency?"

She half-turned, still backstepping away from him with her hands clasped behind her back, the action an outrageous breach of protocol, but a calculated one. "I'm afraid that I wouldn't know what else to call you."

He set his head to one side, amused but not for a moment fooled, "Oh I'm sure you do your homework better than that."

"I do," she admitted, "But you do yours better. I remain, as everybody does with you I suspect, in the dark."

She had intended the words as a passing comment, a game reply on which to make her exit. Yet they seemed to have the opposite effect, his half-smile melting away as if a shadow had crossed his face and his soul in the same instant.

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Kiria walked slowly down the grand, high-ceilinged hallway and beneath the imposing glass cupola at its centre, completely lost in thought, considering the meeting. It wasn't often she was played; she was always the player, the manipulator. She was the schemer, not the target. She was beautiful and smart and witty and desirable; she knew that, and she'd carved a very prestigious place for herself in Palpatine's Empire on those terms. She'd spent her life in this world and knew every nuance of its customs and traditions, knew the rules to every game here, public and private… but she still couldn't peg that conversation down.

Half interview, half informal chat, it had flipped in quicksilver turns from playing the game to purposely misplaying it to just plain, candid honesty. Like the man himself.

And it had left her bewildered, struggling to keep up with a conversation that was neither one game nor the other, an exercise in both uncovering the truth and stating the way it would be.

She'd gone in there intending to flirt and persuade, and she'd had the rules laid down for her in no uncertain terms. He'd been in turns formal and reserved, then strangely warm. Not quite open – never that – but… accommodating. Amicable. Vulnerable even, once or twice… and fascinating.

Power always was, however it was meted out.

She allowed a smile to her ruby lips, lifting her chin; yes… fascinating.

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	10. Chapter 10

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**CHAPTER SIX**

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Luke stood at the window to his private office, rubbing his fingers across his forehead to ease the tension there. For days he'd had a building headache, like a tone just beyond hearing at the edges of his thoughts.

He turned quickly, aware that there was an expectant silence behind him, "Say that again?"

Talon Karrde frowned, aware that the Emperor's mind was elsewhere but not surprised; based on his own experience of herding little more than a few dozen smugglers, he felt he could safely assume that running an Empire could regularly get the wrong side of untenable. "I said there's a general call out for information regarding a certain SSD Executor."

His father's previous command. Luke frowned; this was new. "What about it?"

Karrde noted the Emperor's change in stance, the subtle tensing of his back as he straightened, completely focused again in that mildly unsettling way he had of switching in the space of a single blink.

"Nothing specific that I can define as yet, just plans and schematics." Karrde admitted, "I have feelers out though. I'll let you know as soon as I have more."

"Send me a copy of the details you have." The Emperor said. "Who's put the call out?"

"I don't know… I've tried to trace it back but come up blank. It didn't come through their usual channels, but I think it's the Rebel Alliance."

"Because?"

It was interesting that the Emperor would even ask such a thing, Karrde reflected; that he would invite the opinion of someone like Karrde. Because he was pretty damn sure that it wasn't the kind of thing that someone brought up in these exalted halls would generally do. Which beggared the question; why would _he_? Or maybe, to turn that on its head, if he _did_… then where was he brought up?

Karrde shrugged, "Wording, mostly. The way it was distributed; it came in from the Rim, from a few sources at once, so whoever wants it is well-scattered out that way. Plus of course, who else would want it?"

The Emperor hesitated, considering, "Who would want the schematics of an eight year old Destroyer anyway?"

"Yes," Karrde said thoughtfully, "Struck me as odd, too. I thought it was perhaps DEMP technology, but I understand they already have it."

"They don't have the shield system yet. Nor the means to direct the charge, we think."

"Which means they can't fire it off." Karrde said, nodding. He'd been curious as to why it hadn't been used by the Rebels. It seemed the perfect guerrilla tool; maximum damage for minimum effort.

"In point of fact they've already used it." The admission of this to Karrde was flattering, but he also knew the way that the Emperor thought; if this got out now, he'd know it was Karrde – and he knew that Karrde knew that too. "It didn't work out too well for them."

"They built one?"

"Stole it. Or rather, stole the parts to make two of them, then destroyed one when discharging the other."

"So they still have one?"

"Presuming it still works." The Emperor allowed, seeming none too concerned. "It was a prototype."

"You're not worried they'll use it?"

"Why do you think we're running overtime to shield major military installations?"

"What about principal cities?"

The Emperor shook his head, confident. "They wouldn't do that; they never hit civilian targets."

Karrde half-shrugged, "I heard Madine hit a colony on Toprawa less than a year ago."

"Yes, he did, and was severely reprimanded, so I hear. He was trying to destroy the new relay station there – the last one was destroyed by Rebels, what… nine years ago. We finally completed its replacement and Madine thought he'd make a statement by destroying it again."

"I heard that. The Rebel group who destroyed the original were killed to a man. Those who weren't shot committed suicide."

And then something remarkable happened; Karrde watched, fascinated, as the Emperor actually hesitated, visibly uncomfortable, then turned away, voice unnaturally even. "Yes. To protect their mission."

Karrde frowned, "The destruction of a relay station?"

The Emperor had turned halfway about and taken to carefully rearranging the flimsiplast sheets on the desk behind him, his impassive manner not quite hiding a troubled inner sense, "No, not actually. They had a different mission – one they chose to protect with their lives. Which was why the Alli… the Rebellion took exception to the reactivation the Imperial relay station there."

Karrde watched closely, aware that this was the most uncomfortable he'd ever seen the Emperor. He glanced quickly down as the Emperor turned to him, all business again, "But unfortunately Madine got a little over-zealous in his identification of the enemy kill-zone and their Y-Wings delivered a good portion of their ordnance on the expanded township there. What had been the site of one of the Rebellion's most cherished memorials to Rebel principles and spirit became their first civilian tragedy."

"I didn't know that." Karrde admitted, genuinely surprised that a self-confessed information-dealer such as himself didn't know something as relevant as this.

"No." the Emperor replied without meeting his eye, "We put a lot of effort into keeping it very quiet."

Which was a strange thing, taken on face value, Karrde reflected. Because when your main opposition causes a civilian tragedy, you generally make the fact well known, particularly considering that they would do the same to you in the blink of an eye. What reason then, did the new Emperor have to contain such a thing- because it must have been quite a feat to do so to this degree.

Equilibrium now restored, the Emperor turned those shrewd, mismatched eyes on Karrde, ever-perceptive. "Now you're wondering why I kept it quiet."

"It crossed my mind." Karrde admitted with a far-too-casual shrug.

The Emperor smiled as he turned away, that cool, intensely calculating manner abruptly coming to the fore, "Oh don't worry, we'll use it. But when I say so and on my terms. That's the kind of fact that one doesn't waste."

"You don't like him, do you?"

The Emperor turned sharply, "Who?"

"Madine, the Rebel General." An ex-Imperial, fervently pursuing his campaigns against the new Emperor with the kind of zeal that only the converted could muster. Karrde had heard the mutterings; of late, even his own Rebel Alliance considered him increasingly radical.

Karrde watched as the Emperor blinked slowly, turning away, the act made disconcerting by those bizarrely mismatched eyes. "Madine is irrelevant. I don't have the time for personal grudges."

"I've heard he rather dislikes you." Karrde pushed out of curiosity.

The Emperor grinned – and for once, the smile didn't reveal his youth; this was a very different smile. "Good. I work very hard to keep it that way."

Karrde glanced down, freshly aware that to cross this man was a dangerous thing - and wondering, in that instant, from the way it had been spoken, whether there was more here than met the eye.

Luke hesitated at Karrde's obvious discomfort, pulling himself back from the twist of dark self-satisfaction fired by knowing that he made Madine's life difficult. It was true though; that he couldn't afford personal grudges. Still, it often seemed that Madine went out of his way to provoke Luke, so it was deeply satisfying to know that the favour was returned. And if it served his greater goals, then all the better.

"Madine's unimportant." Luke dismissed, leaning back against his desk to consciously present a more relaxed image, looking to move Karrde's thoughts on. "What else do you have for me?"

"Just one more thing. I wondered if you knew…"

Karrde hesitated diplomatically, and Luke didn't push. As with others who were close to him, Luke worked hard to foster that sense of trust with Karrde; the feeling that anything could be said with impunity.

Coming to some internal conclusion, karde looked up, "I think you have a high-level mole in the Palace."

Luke tensed, instantly focused on this new fact, "The Palace?"

"Yes…We've heard murmurs in the past, but we thought it was a member of the fleet – a comm officer, my contact told me."

Luke relaxed slightly, hearing Karrde quote the alter-ego he'd created to allow himself to communicate with Leia. Strange to hear it come back to him now as Intel. "Is that common knowledge – that the leak is an Imperial fleet officer?"

"No, I don't think so. The Bothans know."

"So it soon will be." Awkward; made the meetings more of a risk.

"I could check; see who it goes out to?" Karrde offered.

"No, leave it be. I'll deal with it."

The smuggler nodded, then pushed on, "From what I understand, the new information isn't consistent with that, though. It could conceivably be two separate informers."

"Both supplying the Rebellion?"

"That I don't know." Karrde admitted, "This is simply the scuttlebutt in the cantina's."

"Which cantina's are they?"

"The ones your Intel operatives wouldn't get past the door in." Karrde shrugged dryly, "Well, not the real door anyway."

Luke glanced away, unoffended. The temptation, as ever, was to try himself. He was pretty sure he could get into the right places given a few weeks… he didn't even need that in truth; he just needed to be close enough to pick through the thoughts of those nearby. But then, he never had a few weeks anymore. A few hours were a luxury. He rubbed at his eyes, aware that he had gone silent again, listening absently to that constant tone in the back of his mind.

Aware of Karrde's eyes on him, Luke pulled his thoughts to the present. "Find out what they're passing on and who to – anything at all."

"So you don't think it's the Fleet Officer?"

Luke shrugged then caught himself, aware that an Emperor didn't allow such uncertainties. "If you get me the information I'll know."

Karrde tucked away with interest the fact that the Emperor clearly already knew about the fleet officer – enough even to know specifically the information he was passing on. "And if it does turn out to be a second informer?"

"Oh well that's easily solved." Luke deadpanned, "I'll just run a quick check of the eight thousand four hundred staff who work in the Palace Towers and I'm sure it'll pop right up."

Karrde held the trace of a grin from his lips; it amused him no end that the leader of the Empire had an inappropriately sardonic strip, and he was becoming used to these lightening-fast flips of temperament. He hesitated to say it, but, "I thought you could tell. With..." he paused, unsure quite what to say.

"You assume I'm in regular contact with all eight thousand staff."

"Aren't you?" Karrde asked with mock seriousness, and the Emperor allowed a slight dry smile.

"This from the man who's been carrying a Black Sun operative from base to base."

"Touché." Karrde smiled, inclining his head. "I could be wrong about the leak of course; the information's scant."

"But you don't think so."

"I'll let you know. In the meantime, what will you do?"

"I'll try not to lose any sleep over it." The Emperor said dryly, presenting the model of quiet confidence that he always was.

Though today for the first time, Karrde thought he'd seen a few chinks in that perfect permasteel armour, leading him to wonder again at the blank page that was the new Emperor's past... and to wonder what happened when, if ever, that perfect façade faltered.

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	11. Chapter 11

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Luke woke with a shout, wrenching up and scrambling back in the same moment until he hit the high headboard behind him, the strength of the Force-shield he'd unwittingly thrown out wrenching back the sweat-soaked covers about him, his eyes wide, chest still heaving.

He stared into the darkness as reality seeped back in, blinking rapidly, his heart still beating so loudly he could hear it in his short, shallow breaths. Slowly coming round, still staring into nothing, he stilled; listened within momentarily… and it was there. It was always there now.

It had started as a distant tone at the edges of Luke's mind when he'd returned to the Palace after Devaron, like a sound just beyond hearing which had built steadily at the back of his awareness for weeks. And there was something else; something achingly familiar in the call; some distant memory which collapsed into itself every time he reached for it, some veiled recognition of that same perfect attunement which pressed in with dull denseness and knife-sharp clarity in the same instant. The same sense of an absolute magnetic draw, a summons which he alone heard, the sound pure and perfect and unrelenting, until eventually it became as stringent and jarring as nails down chalkboard, demanding attention.

For days he'd stubbornly refused to give, adamantly ignored its call. Now, in the dark of the night, still breathing heavily as the nightmares of his past settled once again into the shadowed corners, he knew how futile that was. With a sigh part frustration and part resignation, he rose.

The fine of fossilstone of the mosaic marble floor was cold against his bare feet, but in a reassuringly physical, tangible way, making the moment real, pushing back the nightmare which still clung to his waking thoughts as he paced alone through the vast suite which was his bedroom and into the dressing room beyond. He closed tired eyes against old memories, then opened them against the visions which still lurked in the dark of his mind, trying to ignore their barbed scratch against his sanity, like fingernails down the inside of his skull.

Dressing, he walked quietly to the tall windows, gazing out at the city glittering beneath him, a constant pulse of light and life. He stared a long time into the night, mesmerised by the changing patterns of ever-moving lights, aware that despite its closeness, it may as well be light-years away from him. He stood in the absolute centre of the universe, yet remained forever isolated. How many beings envied him for being here? How many beings would change places with him if they knew what it had cost - what it still took from him every day?

In the still dark of night, the familiar rooms felt more like the confined prison of his past than at any other time, the walls closing in about Luke, the silence unbearable, the demand in the back of his mind still ringing in that pitch-perfect tone…

He turned abruptly, grabbing a shirt and striding through his apartments.

When the doors to his private chambers were flung forcefully open by some unseen source and the Emperor strode through, barefoot and with shirt open, the night-watch guards didn't so much as glance at each-other before falling into pace a discrete distance behind; this was often the way that nights went here, the Emperor walking the halls of his sprawling apartment through the night like a caged animal, exhausted but unable to sleep.

Unlike most nights however, the Emperor surprised them by simply keeping on walking in a straight line as he reached the tall double doors of his apartments, heading out into the Palace Tower still barefoot, a second set of guards falling in behind with hardly a broken step.  
Still, somebody had the sense to contact higher powers.

Followed at a discrete distance, the Emperor strode through the Palace, quickly at first, then slowing as he seemed to calm, eventually thinking to button his shirt as he crossed the path of a member of the night staff, who diligently looked the other way, bowing at the last moment as if uncertain whether to acknowledge that this was the Emperor or not.

Pausing occasionally, tilting his head as if listening, he headed up, away from his own apartments and the bustle of the lower levels which would still be staffed even at this hour and into the quiet stillness beyond, walking wide, carved stair after wide stair, traversing the long galleried bridges which joined the Towers occasionally, bare feet patting on the cool marble, emerging at each level and pausing only briefly before heading on again. It was only when he had passed into the quiet stillness of the barred levels in the South Tower that the Emperor stopped dead as if suddenly realizing where he was, staring at the dwarfing proportions of the grand, looming arch of the darkened entrance. He stood brooding before the sealed doors for a long time, his back to the guards, the silence laying heavy.

The guards glanced to each-other, but one shook his head, moving to stand to straight attention outside the vast entranceway to Palpatine's grand apartments. No-one dared approach, everyone prepared to wait this out as the Emperor stood alone in exactly the same position, exactly the same stance, minutes ticking by.

Minutes ticking by. Luke stood before the lofty double-doors and stared at his old Master's apartments, sealed on his death by Luke's command, the whole five levels closed down, though knowledge of its existence remained always like a dirty stain at the edge of Luke's awareness, the stagnant torpor of the place a cloying monument to self-serving greed, the eager, feverish whispers of the power-hungry and the deceitful seeping into the stone here, part of the shadows and darkness.

And then there was this; this single stringent tone, this faded whisper from within.

Luke reached out with the Force and the doors slid reluctantly back into their housings, the darkness beyond absolute. Squaring his shoulders, he walked into the shadows alone. He had nothing to fear; he was, after all, one of them.

The silent step of his bare feet made no sound in the overwhelming grandeur of the massive atrium, its scale designed to dwarf all who entered. After only one year, a heavy pall of dust lay on the jet-black polished stone, Luke's path through it tracked lightly, lifting it into the air to pick out the slim shafts of light which reached into the brooding gloom.

He walked the length of the vast atrium without hesitation, immersed in the silence, searching for the source of that singular pitch. The closer he came the more it drew him, a siren song calling him on, quickening his step, tightening his chest in anticipation as he tried to lock it down; the familiarity of it, the connection, the implication, the memory just beyond grasp.

He moved quickly through the cavernous halls and down the long, perfectly-matched enfilade, eyes turning neither left nor right, coming to large, heavily-carved doors which grated open into another vast chamber, its walls a dark, dour crimson-

-and stopped dead.

Before him, left here at Luke's own order, was the once-magnificent Sunburst Throne. Battered and broken during the fateful duel which had cost Palpatine his life, it stood ruined and abandoned now, a fine film of dust reducing the once-glowing facets to dull lifelessness.

His eyes were drawn to the twisted and misshapen sunburst flares radiating from the massive engraved sun which formed the backrest of the throne. In the endless hours that he had stood behind that throne in Court, Luke had often stared at the sun's mirror-image to the throne's rear, the lowest sunbursts resting on the pale marble floor, the two connected back to back, a perfect match. They had always reminded Luke in some distant way of Tatooine's twin suns, though they were nothing of the sort, simply another expression of the dual representations which littered the throne; another opportunity for scholars through the ages to read significant meanings onto things they knew nothing about whilst claiming its relevance a priceless artefact, ancient and sacrosanct.

The Sunburst throne… the Seat of Prophesy; it was said that in the indecipherable archaic text hidden within the etched designs of the massive sunburst was the key to a power capable of changing the course of the galaxy, secrets guarded and handed down over the ages with near-religious zeal, endless variations and permutations documented and carefully considered, crafted into a fateful Son of Suns prophesy which had hung like chains first about his father's neck and then about Luke's own.

The throne… in the heavy, stagnant stillness, it was the dull, dusty throne which resonated, practically vibrated with that silent tone of perfect pitch which echoed all the way down to Luke's soul.

Luke stared, the scribed words of the portentious prophesy hidden by heavy dust, their fluid flow broken by the crumpled twists of the ruined sunburst – yet they held his attention completely, as they always had. Drawing him in, whispering in the muted silence, calling and cajoling, scratching in the back of his awareness, the connection flawless, fascinating…

Luke blinked, shaking his head as he took a broken step back, dispersing the connection by force of will, unwilling to be led as he had been in the past.

No more prophesies; they'd destroyed his father's life and he wouldn't bow to them any more. This ended now.

In a fit of anger his eyes hardened, his chin raising a fraction of an inch as he brought the Force to bear– the invisible blow was a massively powerful burst of kinetic energy but the throne only toppled backwards, landing on its back with a leaden thud as dust billowed out in a cloud about it, thrown up into the fine slivers of light which reached into the gloom.

Luke turned, tried so hard to look away–

But a sliver of light now sliced across the underside of the beaten metal throne, catching at the complex etching which covered even the underside of the seat, its edges gleaming through the dust-filled haze…

And from the corner of his eye Luke saw something there... his head froze, eyes locked, completely captured...

It seemed at first glance to be a continuation of the intricate design of interlinked circles that scribed in ornate, elaborate patterns over the whole throne... but slowly as he stared, as that perfect pitch sung, the lines writhed, the complex design falling into place. Nothing changed… and yet now, etched into the underside of the seat in two interlocked circles, were stretched hierogyphs, their letters so distorted as to be little more than a scrawling decoration.

Luke stared, eyes drawn to them, unable to turn away-

Just as so much was on the seat of prophesy, the words were written twice, one circle of words within the other, the direction of the letters reversed, the subtle inscriptions carved in fine, fluid lines. The slim rays of shuttered light traced their shape, catching across the carved words, the only sound in the profoundly still silence that of Luke's own heartbeat, loud in his ears- and that pitch-perfect tone.

For a second they seemed alien; unreadable – but as he stared mesmerised at the faceted rose-gold carvings, just as it had done before, an insular acuity whispered up his spine, resonating through the Force… and the words swam effortlessly into his consciousness, forming complete and unbidden, written twice, each time as a circle, one linked within the other with no beginning and no end. Luke frowned, eyes tracing the curve of the scribings, words transmuted with flawless clarity-

"_-And he balances on the biting blade whilst devils and angels whisper-  
__-And she balances all the fates of the worlds whilst head and heart make war-"_

"…. Luke?"

The word, quietly whispered, shattered Luke's rapt attention with an almost physical force, making him spin about, arm raised, fingers outstretched. The Force surged into him, its energy crackling to this open palm and lighting it with an intense, sulphurous glare, igniting into power which arced from his fingers, searching to ground-

Hallin flinched back–

–and Luke caught the power, contained it, the energy crackling back through him like knife-blows, a burst of scarlet pain firing through him, tensing every muscle and ripping the breath from his lungs with incredible force.

He was left gasping, breathless, the shock of it throwing reality to a distant blur for long seconds…

Slowly, still doubled half-over by the wrenching, stabbing spasms, he became aware of Nathan speaking as he stepped in, hand to Luke's shoulder to steady him, though Luke had no idea what he said, the implications of his own barely-halted actions chilling.

It would have killed him, Luke knew. The energy he'd focused; the draw on the Force he'd summoned to contain it… it would have killed Nathan.

He was furious; at himself for the momentary lapse, at Nathan for risking the intrusion, at the Force itself, that it would have done the deed indiscriminately. At the throne, for its damning distraction…

The throne; Luke turned to it, incensed, pushing Nathan's hand away as he straightened. "Get it out. I want it out of here." he snarled to Nathan, hearing the rage in his own voice and not caring.

Nathan took a hasty step back at the unfamiliar ferocity twisting Luke's voice, at the feral fierceness in his glassy eyes, almost aglow in the low light. "Out of here? Where do you want me to put it?"

He could see Luke struggling to bring his emotions under control, his body tense and wired, voice reduced to a flat, grating, growl.

"Just get it out. I want it out of the towers, I want it out of the Palace. In fact smelt it down."

Nathan hesitated, uncertain what was going on here, what had unhinged Luke to this degree, pushing him over the edge. "Smelt it?"

"Smelt it. Melt it down. I want it destroyed, I want it gone. Permanently. No more prophesies - no more."

Luke turned on his heel and stalked from the room in brooding silence, leaving Nathan to turn back to the tarnished ruin of the toppled throne, aware that he'd just seen something of great import though he had no idea what it was or why it had unbalanced Luke so completely.

Knowing only that it, this – this place, this task, this past, this path… it was taking Luke to pieces.

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	12. Chapter 12

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**CHAPTER SEVEN**

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Mara met Luke at his office in the Cabinet the following morning, already alerted as to the previous night's happenings, though she'd sensed them herself on some level anyway, the faint attenuation in the Force which she always shared with Luke having sounded a strident chord for days now, though he'd denied any disquiet.

Now she stayed close, protective as she always was, though she had the good sense not to mention the night's events, aware that any open concern would be rebuffed. She glanced up as Wez Reece walked in with the morning dispatches, knocking politely on the door though there was hardly any point; Luke would have sensed his approach long ago.

"Good morning, Excellency. Dispatches." Reece announced as he set forward, placing the four small data chips on a small clearing to the edge of Luke's wide, cluttered desk.

"Thank you, Wez." Luke glanced up, "Oh, I was looking for the data chip on the new Star Destroyer, Sterling—I thought I'd left it in the data store?"

Wez glanced to the substantial information storage system to Luke's left, where all sensitive data chips were stored, their edges aglow with diffuse blue radiance.

"Is it not there?" He walked casually over, frowning. "I saw it yesterday. When were you looking?"

"Yesterday." Luke replied casually, reaching out to take the dispatches Reece had placed on his desk and accidentally knocking them away. They slid back over the far side of the crowded desk and Mara stepped forward to retrieve them from the floor, surprised that Luke had been so clumsy.

As she crouched she glanced to his face and was left with the sudden intense feeling that this wasn't the fact at all; this was something else. He reached out his hand and the small chips flew in neat succession into his palm yet he still seemed to pause, eyes to the floor.

Reece continued without turning, apparently unaware, "Perhaps it… ah, here it is. Would you like it?"

"Please." Luke acknowledged without turning as he sat back down, already loading the first of the dispatch chips into his reader. "Thanks, Wez- what will I do without you."

The tall, heavily-built Corellian smiled slightly, bowing wide shoulders as he placed the chip on Luke's desk.

Mara settled back on her chair as Reece left, the lofty double-doors sliding shut behind him. Long seconds passed in silence, somehow strangely tense to Mara's senses…

With a muffled click, she heard the door mechanism lock, turning to glance at it momentarily, knowing that Luke must have done so using the Force. She turned back, feeling some need to break the brittle silence, "What do you need the…"

In the next second, everything flew forwards off Luke's desk as if thrown, flashing by to bounce from the wall behind her as she flinched away.

"_DAMMIT_!" Luke shouted, banging the heel of his hand against the solid desk as he stood, "Stupid! Stupid, stupid…"

His chair fell back as he lurched up and he turned on it, catching it with his hand to launch it back against the wall behind him, part under his own strength, part augmented by the Force so that it hit with a wrenching shriek, smashing to pieces. He stepped clear of the desk, grabbing it by the front corner and heaving it back with all the power of his arm and shoulder behind it and then at the last second Mara sensed the mental whirlwind that was the Force raised to sudden hurricane levels, picking it up as he launched out, throwing it across the chamber, one leg skittering as it careened half-controlled the length of the room to smash spectacularly against what was left of the chair, the massive weight hitting the wall with a reverberating wallop, loosing plaster and knocking data chips and readers from nearby shelves.

Mara had stood and taken two steps back without even realising it, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Luke turned on his heel and stalked toward the glass doors onto the balcony, flung open with enough force to rebound against their hinges.

He was in the doorway, Mara just beginning to wonder whether it would be wise to follow him, when he turned on her, eyes ablaze, "_NO!"_

She was left to a shocked silence, glancing uneasily about the devastated room. Slowly it percolated through her seized mind that someone was banging frantically at the doors behind her. She forced numb legs to work and turned, walking shakily to the doors. They didn't open as she brushed her hand over the release and she glanced to it, remembering that it had been locked, numbly going through the motions of keying in the release code before she manually slid the door open just slightly, "Yes?"

There were eight Royal Guard on the other side of the door, all with weapons drawn, plus four plain-clothes security led by Clem, who was repeatedly keying the door code from his side. All made to move forward but stopped as she opened the door no further.

"Everything's fine." Mara said mechanically, not even knowing herself what was going on.

"Ma'am, we need to enter- please step aside." Clem said in a tone that didn't invite argument.

Mara held her ground, the fact that Luke had bothered to lock the door lodged in her thoughts. "Everything's fine." she repeated, "The Emperor doesn't wish to be disturbed…"

Clem was already moving purposely forward, shouldering at the sliding door- it was after all, their job to protect him, and the heavy desk must have shaken the walls with its impact.

Still, they remained polite as Clem pushed the door aside, Mara still so surprised at Luke's outburst that she let them. They were all in the room by the time the first saw the Emperor stood safely on the balcony, turning toward them.

It was of course Clem, Luke's Palace bodyguard long before he became Emperor – before he had even been pronounced Heir – who spoke out first. "Sir, are you…"

Luke walked slowly back toward them, his stance and voice taught, "I'm fine. Everything's fine. Nothing happened."

Mara felt the tight tendrils of the Force slice subtly past her, converging on the guards, pinpoint-sharp, power and focus flawlessly applied.

"Nothing happened," Luke repeated, mismatched blue eyes like crystal as he held their gaze, "As you were."

They filed slowly from the room, eyes straight ahead, leaving Mara to close the door silently behind them.

Luke remained still for several seconds, eyes on the closed door, and she knew he was still touching those minds, clearing the last trails of hesitant uncertainty from them as the guards stepped away and returned to their posts.

Finally he turned to Mara, jaw tight, eyes hard and wild. "Wez is passing on information."

"W.. what!?" Mara stuttered. Wez had always been loyal, had been with Luke when Palpatine was on the throne, willing to commit treason to gain Luke the power to overthrow him. He would never do this- he would never betray Luke… would he?

"I don't know who to, but I will soon enough. Karrde warned me that I had a high-level leak. The Destroyer documents Wez copied and passed on have a tracer embedded. The moment they pass into any system they'll drop a coded virus into it- every time it's opened or passes to another system it'll take a system ID imprint and leave a tracer. The first time it enters a system with HoloNet capabilities it'll transmit the map of tracers."

Mara shook her head, still disbelieving, "Wez?!"

Luke raised his chin; "Wez. A year ago I would have put him in the top three people I trusted. He's fourth in line to the throne… I need to change that- quietly."

"Why?" What else was there to say?

Luke shook his head, "Does it matter? It's not under duress, if that's what you're thinking."

"But he _knows_ what you can do." Wez had originally been assigned to Luke by Palpatine because he had a naturally 'quiet mind', but not a completely unreadable one and certainly not to someone of Luke's abilities.

"People always think they can fool it, that they can circumvent it somehow, you know that."

It was beginning to settle in now, Mara's shock twisting tighter into outrage. "The hypocritical smear of Hutt-slime! How _dare_ he? After all you've done… you gave him the kind of power and opportunities that he'd never've had with Palpatine and this is how he repays you."

Strangely, Luke felt his own temper subsiding before Mara's hot-headed indignation, "I should have known – I should have seen it coming. If he was willing to betray Palpatine to put me in power, then he'll think nothing of betraying me to another."

"Who?" she kept coming back to this, but it was paramount in her mind.

"I don't know." He looked to her, eyes fire and fury, "But I intend to find out."

.

.

For the rest of the day, every moment was a reminder of Reece's betrayal, Luke's mind racing, searching for reasons, for failings in his own actions which must surely have incited Reece's decision to turn traitorous, until by evening he couldn't bear to see him, withdrawing to his private rooms as dusk fell to stand alone in the darkness, alternately outraged and wounded, tortured by the awareness that he could do nothing to act on his knowledge, for so many reasons.

Aloud, to Mara, he'd cited damage control; the need to find out who Reece was passing information on to, plus the opportunity to feed him false information to be passed on in future. In private he had no idea, none whatsoever, what he would say to Nathan. How he could possibly broach the subject. The fact was that he had no proof, and whilst as a Force-sensitive Luke didn't need any further proof, to condemn Reece simply on his own word would seem far too much like a personal whim, and he knew it would drive a wedge between himself and Nathan that perhaps would never heal.

It shouldn't matter he knew; it shouldn't matter to him whether Nathan liked or loathed him, only that he obeyed him. But that wasn't enough. Despite everything, Luke held with a reckless need to what little he had left, and Nathan was part of that. His Master would have laughed at him, Luke knew; laughed in his face, that first he could be wounded by Reece's actions, and second he was so weak that even knowing the truth he curbed his own responses, continued to risk so much simply to spare another's feelings; to avoid having to pass on the information that would make Nathan feel as desolate and as wounded as Luke did right now.

And he was risking it all again, he knew, in his continued trust of others despite every lesson he'd been taught. Because he had no guarantee that Nathan would remain loyal, nor even Mara. Mara he didn't trust as it was, in truth. He barely ever had, and when he had, she had betrayed himself and his father with appalling consequences.

And yet still she was here. Still Reece was here… and still Luke bled; his Master's words from long ago,_ "Trust alone will make you truly bleed, child. Trust alone can mutilate and maim- betrayal is the most brutal butcher."_

He could rely on no-one – that was the truth. He could rely on _no-one_ here, not even those he trusted the most, with the truth of what he was planning for Palpatine's Empire.

"_You cannot trust."_ his Master had said it so many times. The words rang around and around in Luke's head as he watched the last light drain from an inky sky. "_If I leave you with one knowledge, it shall be that; you cannot trust."_

A light knock at the door, and Turis, the newest Adjutant to join Luke's staff, stepped timorously forward, "Forgive me Excellency, Commander-"

"I told you not to disturb me." Luke didn't turn.

"Sir, I was advised that you'd wish to see any members of your Council even-"

"By me?"

"….No, Sir."

"Then I fail to see the problem." The youth was already backing out of the door as Luke half-turned, voice a fraction too sharp, "Wait."

Turis froze, and Luke turned slowly, features hard, the day's events percolating down into this final provocation. "I hadn't finished. Are you in the habit of turning your back in the middle of a conversation?"

"No Sir! I apolo-"

"Because I can assure you, it is something that I will tolerate only once – and even then..."

A pale, slim hand rested on the man's shoulder, and Mara stepped into the darkened room.

He watched her calculating gaze take in the scene; his voice, his stance. Watched her casually pull the youth back as she stepped forward, centring all attention on herself. She still believed herself immune to his shifting disposition. It irked him that she was at least partly right.

"It was my fault." Mara said evenly as she stepped forward, "If you're going to shout, do it at me."  
.

Mara walked in, taking in Luke's silhouette before the bank of windows, his stance wire-tight, his eyes seeming almost to glow in the low light. He turned coolly away, eyes on the distant city. She didn't slow; hesitation inferred nerves, and of everyone, Mara alone could handle Palpatine's Wolf when he chose to bare his teeth like this. So she walked forward, pausing to run her hand over the sensor plate and activate the lights, hoping to break his brooding temper. The lofty, rock-crystal glowpods in the huge gilded and coffered ceiling faded up – and just as quickly faded back down again, the brief tip of Luke's chin indicating that he'd used the Force to distinguish them.

She'd intended to inform him of the quiet damage control that had been set in place to limit Reece's liability without his knowledge, but that had suddenly become of secondary importance to diffusing Luke's frame of mind before it escalated, as it occasionally did of late.

"You scare him." Mara said evenly as the Adjutant exited the room, bowing several times as if unsure when exactly he should do it, the bright flare of light from the hall beyond extinguished, leaving them only the reflected glow of the city.

"I scare most people." Luke said dispassionately. "I'm a monster, didn't you know?"

"Not to me."

Luke stared at Mara for long moments. She was at once his weakness and his strength, his lifeline and yet a reminder of what he was - what he had become in order to protect himself; his goals. "You're alone in that opinion, doesn't that tell you something?"

"It tells me you hide the truth well – but then you always did."

He laughed bitterly at that, turning away. "Perhaps I hide it from you."

"Hallin trusts you." Mara countered, very sure.

"Hallin suffers the same blindness you do," He raised an eyebrow at her burst of surprise as it radiated out through the Force, "Or did you think I didn't know?"

"It doesn't make him wrong. Perhaps we see the truth."

Luke brought his hand up to massage at the bridge of his nose, deathly tired, "No-one sees the truth, Mara. I don't think there even is such a thing anymore, not here."

Mara watched him, wondering why that unsettled her so very much; she had lived here most of her life and it certainly wasn't news to her. It wasn't the fact that he was probably right that bothered her… it was the fact that he accepted it. "You've changed."

"That's rich, coming from one of those who changed me." He said without rancour.

Still, she felt stung, "Me?"

He remained immobile for a few seconds, head still set to one side, and she could tell he was reigning in his temper, trying hard to keep an emotive subject light and not quite succeeding.

"You liked the old Luke?" he said, "All you had to do was just unlock the door to the cell I was in, Mara. Just once. Anytime. You had a long time to figure that out."

"All you had to do was turn round and leave Skywalker. You were in that cell a fraction of the time you were here before Palpatine died."

"I stayed for you! To protect you and Hallin and Reece-" He stopped at Reece's name, all his anger gone in a flash, so that when he continued, his voice was quiet and level again, "If I'd left, you'd have all been dead before I even cleared the Palace grounds, Palpatine made that quite clear."

"Hey, I can take care of myself."

"From Palpatine?" Luke said flatly, "Don't flatter yourself."

"Palpatine's not the only one who played his games." Mara said. But it was, as ever, difficult to insult somebody who thought worse of their own actions than anyone around them.

"Well I learned at the feet of a Master – you should be proud of me; he was."

She lost a little of her bluster at that, aware of the lockjam of emotions that lay behind the casual acceptance of her accusation.

"He made you strong, made you ready for this. Do you think the man who first came here could have held the Empire together?"

"That's right," Luke mocked of his old Master, "He was practically a saint. I should have a statue built in his honor… oh wait, he already did that. Repeatedly."

"He created the Empire you now command."

Luke turned, wondering if she understood that he was baiting her for no other reason than to see how far he could; probably. Which made it all the more mystifying that she stayed. "For himself; _everything_ he ever did was self-serving – or have you forgotten that?"

"He created a legacy he intended to pass on."

"He ensured his precious Sith dynasty. That's all he was doing."

Mara shook her head, "No, you were more than that. You were his opus, his obsession."

"Not me." Luke denied, "This bloodline. This legacy. That's all he cared about."

"He always spoke of the Skywalker line as if they were different in some way; unique."

Luke turned, curious despite his simmering resentment, "Unique how?"

"He always viewed you as completely separate from other Jedi, a… a different breed altogether. He said the strength of your connection to the Force reflected that." She paused, searching old memories, "He said you were the next evolutionary step."

"And why does everyone assume that nature never makes a mistake?" Luke glanced away, not wishing to be pulled into that line of conversation, "Anyway, evolution had nothing to do with us. We were brought into being by intervention."

Mara frowned, "What do you mean?"

Luke watched her, that sharp, analytical mind always looking for answers, searching to understand, to stabilize. Because he knew what was in her mind; that she thought him increasingly impulsive, volatile… perhaps she was right. Perhaps that was part of his heritage too. He didn't have the truth himself; that was the fact of it. He knew that Palpatine had been speaking honestly when he'd disclosed his account of Darth Plagueis and old Sith lore, and of using the Force itself to _will_ life into being to create his father… but that didn't make it true. That didn't prove anything. It didn't decide his destiny or tie him in to a prophesy written before he was born – did it?

Mara was Force-sensitive, one of the few left. She at least could understand… But all the time, his Master's voice whispered old warnings; _"Don't trust, never trust."_

And those green eyes held steady on him, waiting patiently…

"Nothing." He avoided at last, turning away.

Mara frowned, but let it pass, "He said you were a product of the Force in a way that no other Jedi has ever been. He was proud of you."

"He was proud of himself." Luke corrected, "For creating me."

"He trained you as he never trained Vader. I always had the feeling that Palpatine had expected so much more from Vader; that something had happened, that he'd failed to deliver in some way. When Palpatine realized who you were – that Vader had a son – he was ecstatic. He turned huge resources over to finding you."

"Vader was injured." Luke admitted, eyes remaining on the distant, ever-moving glow of the Capital, "Around the same time that I was born. He lost part of his connection to the Force then, though he was still more powerful than most Jedi. But as you said, Palpatine wanted the prime, the unique."  
And so his father had become irrelevant, Luke knew, useful only as a stepping-stone to Palpatine's bright new hope.

Watching him now, a shadow in the brooding darkness, one thought came to Mara's mind. _Palpatine wanted his wolf _–

A rush of images came abruptly to the fore; a vision from long ago, cast scarlet red …

_A storm raging against the night…  
__The howl of the hunting wolf…__  
_…

Luke turned instantly, knowing a vision had surfaced. "What did you see?"

And wasn't that exactly what Palpatine had asked her before, when she'd first seen the vision? Mara frowned, eyes skipping the dark shadows of the cavernous room as she shook her head, the vision fading as they always did. "An old vision, but… I don't remember it – I never remember them."

"You saw me." He said without reservation.

The one fragment of the vision which had remained came like an echo to Mara's mind; the howl of the wolf. _… Had it been you all along?_

"A moon – you saw a moon." Luke prompted.

Mara frowned as realization occurred, "Did you see it?"

Luke turned away, back to her again. "No; fragments, that's all."

"Then you saw what I see. Would I.. if you trained me, would I see more?"

She saw his head drop, his shoulders stiffening. "Why would you want to be trained?"

"Didn't you?"

He'd taught her fragments in the past of course, unable to risk more when Palpatine was alive but adamant that despite her master's opinion, Mara was capable of everything Luke was. Now it seemed, he was less willing.

"After everything you've seen, would you still want this?"

Mara frowned, "Do you regret it so much? After all its achieved for you, could you ever relinquish it?"

Luke didn't turn, eyes on the distant lights, "You assume I want to be here."

"You assume it wasn't always your destiny."

And there it was again, Luke knew; Destiny snapping at his heels.

Mara took a half-step forward, "Palpatine believed it – he told me so the very first time he saw you."

"I've told you, Palpatine was just playing his self-absorbed little games. All he saw when he looked at me was an opportunity which he sought to use. An opportunity which he thought he'd lost with my father."

Mara shook her head, "Why you? Why not any other Jedi – he had ample opportunities."

"It had to be this bloodline. Palpatine created my father to fulfil a prophesy – that's the only reason he did it. He thought he would gain more power for himself, nothing more." Luke shook his head, frustrated that his words only proved the prophesy right; his father had helped bring Palpatine to power, had given him the backing he needed to maintain that power. "That's why he trained me. Vader had been injured – damaged – and I was his chance at fulfilling the prophesy again. That's all he saw; a promise of greater power."

A terrible comprehension was beginning to form in Mara's mind, "Wait… created – not trained."

Mara saw clearly in the tightening of Luke's shoulders that he recognized his slip. Then he seemed quite suddenly to calm, shoulders dropping, voice softening.

"Palpatine believed he created this line." He said it in a tired rush as if, by speaking it quickly, he could have it over with once and for all.

"Created?"

"Through the Force." Luke brought his hand up to rub at his temple again, exhausted, resigned. "My father was the very first of this line, created by the Force - by Palpatine's manipulation of the Force to induce life. That's why we have this connection, this attunement. This curse."

"Curse?"

He didn't look; couldn't meet her eyes, "We were created by Darkness. How can we be anything else? If this is evolution, then how can we fight our nature?"

And there – for there first time, she truly understood. Comprehended the depths of his fear, the burden he'd held so long in silence.

If Darkness was used to create him, how could he ever be anything more?

"Is that even possible?"

Luke shrugged, "I'm here."

Mara's mind raced at the consequences that this implied, "His dynasty – his Sith dynasty. It really would be his."

"It is."

Realization constricted Mara's stomach with queasy revulsion, leaving her cold – all he'd done to Luke; the pitiless ordeals, endless condemnations, the brutal chastisements and cold manipulations, all in the name of control.

And Luke knew that, all of it. Knew it was his creator who treated him this way.

"But why did he…" she couldn't say it, suddenly. Couldn't bring herself to call it the torture that it was.

"Why did he do anything? Out of self-serving greed. He didn't have access to that greater power or connection himself so he created what he believed would achieve it, incited the Force to create life… as a tool, a contrivance which he owned completely, to use as he saw fit. That's all I was – don't ever think otherwise. When he looked at me all he saw was potential… power that he could turn to his own ends, so he brought it into being without the slightest consideration as to whether he could control the thing he had created. Whether anyone could."

She knew now the fear behind his words, "And you?"

"I don't for a moment claim control."

"Yet you do. Every day."

"Not completely. I give the illusion, nothing more." He paused, knowing what was in Mara's thoughts, "And neither can you… control this. I told you that a long time ago and nothing has changed."

She remained still as Luke turned away; let the silence hang, and eventually he spoke, a curiosity, a need in his voice despite his reluctance to ask, "Why do you think you can control it?"

_Always it, as if his own abilities were a separate entity entirely; an enemy._ "I don't. But I believe you can, and that's good enough for me."

"And if you're wrong?"

"You're not Palpatine. And you're not your father."

"Again, I think you're in the minority believing that."

"You'd never use someone as your father did."

Luke turned, outraged– but then what could he say? He knew the limits of his relationship with his father, he wasn't blind. Instead he let his features relax into cool indifference, retreating behind well-honed shields. "I am my father's son, Mara."

"Not in every way."

"You're a fool to trust me, how many times have I told you that?" he warned, wishing she understood, knowing that despite everything he'd just said she still didn't. She couldn't have– or she wouldn't stay. "I use everyone, if they let me."

"I don't let you." She assured confidently.

"Then why are you still here? Either I'm using you or you're using me, Mara… which is it today?"

Mara was silent for long seconds, stung in a way that only he could. Still, she saw through his snap as only she could. "Why do you always push me away?"

He turned away again, voice quiet, "To protect you."

"And yourself. If no-one gets in anymore no-one can hurt you, isn't that right?"

"Never let it be said that I don't learn from my mistakes."

"Or I from mine." Mara said with conviction, hoping to break through those shields.

But he didn't look back. They both knew the conversation had strayed too close to the unspeakable rift between them; that from here it could only degenerate.

Eventually she rose and catwalked from the darkened room, leaving him to his thoughts.

.

Luke didn't turn as Mara left, already regretting his words but unable to retract them.

Could he ever forgive her?

Darkness _could not_ forgive, could not heal. Did not love.

And yet he had, he supposed, loved his father… though he'd never quite forgiven Vader for the burden he'd placed on his son's shoulders. Perhaps he'd even loved Mara… but she too had betrayed him. Yet he couldn't send her away, held captive between warring emotions.

His father's words, so stubbornly refuted by Luke, whispered again in his thoughts; _"Darkness cannot love. The results will be catastrophic and spiral from your control."_

Darkness did not love – it did not heal; it could not forgive.

Yet he had healed himself once before, after the explosion – accelerated repairs to a broken body and restored injuries which should have been damaged beyond recovery. With his father's guidance, he'd healed himself… was that because of their bond, something that enabled them to step beyond the Darkness, something in both himself and his father that was not touched by it, could not be bound by it.

Could he heal this, this deeper wound?

Could he forgive?

.

.

.

Luke rose early, unable to sleep, reaching his office whilst the sky was still dark, nodding acknowledgement to the night staff who rose from their chairs in polite, if mild, surprise. The Emperor was already known for appearing in his offices at any hours of the day and night, and his office worked around the clock in three shifts every day of the year, along with many others in the Palace. The Empire never slept - nor at the moment did the Emperor, Luke reflected wryly.

He'd managed three hours of solid work before the Palace began to stir, a subtle change in his perception signaling the gradual waking of many minds, the gentle mental whisper rising to a constant background chatter in the massive edifice about him by the time that dawn had crawled up the lofty heights and down the monumental drops of the Capital's towering buildings.

He was staring at the open sky beyond the wide run of the balcony when a gentle, polite knock sounded on the door.

"Come." Luke acknowledged, already knowing who it was.

The door slid back into its housing and Hallin glanced around its edge as if uncertain to enter. Luke lifted an eyebrow in mock suspicion, that perfectly annunciated accent momentarily forgotten. "You aren't here to force me to eat healthy breakfasts again are you?"

Hallin let the slightest of offended smiles cross his face. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Then no. Was there fruit involved?"

"No."

"Ah."

"I don't do fruit before eleven." Luke held out, and the medic dropped his head in acquiescence, "I'll give you that one. And order some juice for you at eleven. I have dispatches here." He set forward into the room handing them over.

"Sit." Luke invited, appreciative of the company.

They talked of nothing as Luke worked, Hallin always entertaining, always sociable and forthcoming… and the longer they spoke, the more the knot in Luke's stomach tightened, until he could stand it no more, the guilt eating at him.

Reece.

Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell Nathan about Reece, if only to be sure that Nathan didn't unwittingly pass information on. And how did he do that? How did he say that the man whom he, and particularly Nathan, thought they knew so well was smuggling information out of the Palace and on to who knew where?

"Interesting?" Nathan prompted.

Luke glanced up, "What?"

"I said is it interesting, because you've been staring at that particular dispatch for the last ten minutes… scowling in fact."

Luke looked down, unaware of what was even written on the autoreader he held. "Very boring."

"What is it?"

Completely blank, Luke was forced to look again at the 'reader before he could answer, "The contract with the D'Arca's – details of the agreement."

Nathan nodded, well aware that until that moment Luke hadn't even known what he was staring at. "The contract?"

"Yes."

"Are we not allowed to call it a marriage?"

Luke set the reader down to launch a high-voltage glare across the wide desk towards Nathan, who was as resolutely unmoved by it as he'd always been.

"I only ask because you never do. It's the contract, it's the agreement, it's the event… you've even called it the deal once, did you know that?"

"Call it what you want, Nathan, I really don't care."

Nathan leaned back, studying his friend; noting the fine lines of tension at the edges of his eyes, the dark circles beneath from too many sleepless nights, which made pale blue eyes unnaturally vivid. He knew the games Luke was playing of course; why he was seriously considering this offer, knew his reasons and his justifications. Luke had in fact taken great care to lay them out for consideration with measured, rational deliberation– a little too much care, as if he was validating them not only to Nathan and Reece, but to himself as well.

Had Beladon D'Arca not brought this to Luke, then Nathan doubted Luke would have ever pursued such a course. But now, as with everything else in his life, he was weighing up the odds and the advantages and assessing them against his larger goals; the possible advantage of control of an influential elite who had the power to make his life difficult, against the minimal disadvantage of his own uneasy conscience.

He had grown up on the galaxies frontier, in the harshest of climates, a place where every day was a battle- against the elements, against hostile natives, against the scarcity of basic necessities. A place where nature still held sway and tested its would-be challengers on a daily basis, weeding out the weak, the slow, the dull. That honed sense of survival, stubborn stamina ground into him from early childhood, had instilled an instinct so strong that it couldn't be ignored, and Luke would pit himself without hesitation or conscious question against any environment, throwing himself into the fight, giving everything to survive, to prevail from day to day; from hour to hour if necessary.  
It was no longer nature he daily pitted his wits against in the Imperial Court- or maybe it was just that, concealed and camouflage by manners and protocol, and dressed in vinesilk and pearls, but every bit as driven and as dangerous. The sentient mind was every bit as deliberately cruel as any callous indifference nature could conjure.

Luke had long since learned on Coruscant that either you played the game or the game played you.

Which was where the D'Arca's came in – and Kiria in particular. Because whatever Luke was planning in his grand scheme, he claimed he needed the Royal Houses. He needed their assent, or at the very least their willing disregard.

For the very reason that Luke had danced with her almost two years ago at the launch of the Patriot, he was now willing to wed Kiria D'Arca; not simply to play the game, but to _be seen to_ be playing the game. The Royal Houses were traditionalist, deeply entrenched, centuries of bloodlines, annals of heritage and history. This was a notoriously proud, insular society where new power and wealth were considered gauche. Luke's position bought him their attention, even their respect, on a strictly habitual basis, but not their loyalty.

Palpatine had controlled them by brute force and by the massive contrivance of Court and its endless customs and machinations. Luke had dismantled the latter and unless cornered, was unwilling to resort to the former. Consequently there was only one way to exert any control on this influential, insular, elite society - and that was to be a member of it. To be accepted.

But one did not 'break into' this society; it could not be bought, though it could occasionally be bullied. It could not be awed and it would not be split beyond internal wranglings; if an outside threat was made to any of its kind, it automatically closed ranks. There had always been only two ways in; either one was born into it and so included by birthright… or one married into it. Hallin knew it… and Luke knew it.

The question, as ever, was not how much Luke was willing to surrender to his goals, but rather how to deal with the aftermath of his doing so.

So now, Nathan began to pick nervously at the edge of that wide polished desk, searching for the right words, which was enought for Luke let out a resigned sigh as he leaned back.

"Come on, out with it then."

Nathan effected a shrug, studying the grain of the wood as if it were the most interesting thing in the universe, "I was just curious, I suppose… as to where Mara fits into the plans you so meticulously underlined for us. It just seemed strange that she wasn't mentioned… or there when you explained all this."

Luke ground his jaw as he glanced away, a rare show of guilt. "Mara doesn't fit into it – which was why she wasn't there."

"Ah," Nathan nodded knowingly, "Because one can't help but feel there's a certain… overlap."

"Mara's position here is as Aide and bodyguard." Luke said evenly, "It has been for a long time."

"Are you sure?" Hallin pushed, "Because you need to be."

"Do I look like I'm sure?" Luke asked, his momentary uncertainty palpable. Then he shook his head quickly, speaking as much to himself as Nathan. "There's too much happened between Mara and myself. Too much to ever go back."

"Why?"

The simplicity of it seemed to floor Luke, stop him dead. He rubbed his hands over tired eyes, clearly not wanting this discussion now. "Things happened Nathan. Things you don't know about."

Nathan nodded diplomatically, having long-since learned that any attempt to draw Luke out on this seemed only to fan the flames of his reticence, but it wasn't hard to read between the lines.

The change could be traced back to the day, exactly. To the fateful day that changed everything. Before that, Luke and Mara were inseparable, indissoluble – and Force knew, Nathan had tried in the early days – but they'd withstood every possible test. Luke forgave Mara everything; far, far more than Nathan would ever have thought possible, their bond existing in some insular netherworld which rose very deliberately above the harsh reality of their lives.

And then Luke's father had died, killed by the Emperor. And though Luke had never told him the facts, Hallin knew Mara was involved somehow. One of the few people left in whom Luke had trust had betrayed him; been intrumental in his father's death. Luke had never said as much of course, but events on that fateful day and the resultant slow crumbling of a relationship which had withstood every possible test previously had been message enough.

So Luke had learned this final lesson and built endless shields about himself, using the remoteness of his position as Emperor to isolate himself in a self-imposed solitude, distance the great protector, very few allowed in any more save for the few who had known him before Palpatine had begun his work. Closeness was a weakness; Palpatine had underlined that again and again in his dealings with Luke; that he could be controlled through the people around him, manipulated.

Yes, he had been shaken by his father's death, but that didn't account for his subsequent actions, his deliberate attempts to distance and shutter everything and everyone of any meaning out of his life, Mara included. Rightly or wrongly, Mara had been part of Luke's strength; no matter what he said out loud, he _had_ trusted her. And she had betrayed him, and in doing so delivered the Emperor's final lesson with such force that it had been a body-blow from which Luke had never recovered.

And on some level, Nathan worried that this was just another conveniently-offered way for Luke to distance himself, another way to avoid having to trust again. Another way to avoid ever being put into that situation again.

And if so, he felt a certain redhead may well have words to say about that.

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	13. Chapter 13

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Mara sat quietly in her quarters, eating dinner from the styrene tray she had heated it up in and going through the latest batch of standard Intel coming down the wire. She'd been intending to check any traffic on the bug set up in Reece's office and on his several comlinks. Luke had forbidden her to place them in his and Hallin's apartment, then had warned her off doing it anyway behind his back; there were times when having a boss who could read her mind definitely cramped her style. Instead, as she skipped through the Intel, checking headers on the more than two-hundred pieces in this batch, a thread caught her eye simply because of the reference name; Kiria D'Arca.

What was interesting was that this little nugget was coming _in_ not going _out_- it had purportedly been recorded by someone from high orbit and sold to Black Sun who had, with their usual eager desire to re-establish old working relationships, presented it to Palace Intel free of charge– to stop it getting out into the information market, they claimed piously.

Mara called up the new file, curious. The heiress seemed to have spent a great deal of time here in the Palace recently, making it her mission to carefully insinuate herself into Luke's life. Rumors were rife that her relationship to the Emperor was more than platonic, and despite her knowledge to the contrary, it irked Mara no end.

A 2-D short was attached to the report and she called it up. Heavily cleaned up, with much interpolation in the low light, it was taken from high orbit at night, looking down on the Palace Towers. A huge amount of jamming and counter-surveillance blanketed the Palace, making the only reliable images those taken using basic light-sensitive equipment, but the absence of any flight-paths over and around the Palace and well out into orbit made it difficult to grab anything of any real worth considering the distances involved. What little was available generally offered nothing more than confirmation that certain people were at the Palace at certain times, and that often grainy and indistinct. There were, Mara knew, huge programs written specifically to separate and recognize from a distance individuals within the military who frequented the Palace, all fleet officers' uniforms up to the rank of Grand Moff being the same color and cut. Still, she had to admit that she had difficulties telling the Imperial military apart from ten paces sometimes, never mind high orbit.

Biting her lip as she tilted her head, it took Mara long moments to orient the view…. then release the breath she didn't notice she'd been holding at the realization that it wasn't Luke's apartments.

The petite woman walked casually out onto one of the wide balconies of the East Tower, leaning over the carved stone balustrade. Her long dress of shimmering grey clung to svelte curves, pooling at her feet, the absolute black of her raven hair falling in a shining mane down her back, the vague form of an ornate silver headdress holding it perfectly in place as she casually flicked her head. For a moment Mara thought she was alone, gazing mutely out into the night - then a figure moved to the doorway behind her, shadow cutting a long strip through the bright pool of light from the room beyond.

Leaning casually against the door jamb, body atilt in that familiar manner, was Luke. She was sure of it. He wore a dark fitted jacket, the reflective line of his lightsaber just visible at his hip against his dark trousers as it glinted in a flash from the bright lights of the room behind him.

Mara squinted, leaning in closer to the screen, studying the small, grainy image…

The woman turned to speak as he raised a glass to his mouth before, with a shrug and a tilt of his head, he turned to disappear into the room, D'arca following gracefully, the train of her fitted dress twinkling in the low light.

Mara stared at the final image of an empty balcony for a long time, a plethora of questions whirling round her head.

What was she doing there? What was _he_ doing there? Why hadn't he mentioned it? Did she have any right to ask?

If she did, would she seem accusing and petty?

It was probably an innocent meeting, she reassured herself quickly. D'Arca's being here was no surprise; she was doing her level best too secure herself a permanent place in Luke's retinue at the moment. She could have invited Luke to her apartments and he'd felt duty-bound to…

Mara shook her head, jaw setting; who was she kidding- Luke was Emperor! He didn't have to do anything.

She studied the image closer, mind flipping back to reassurance again; it actually didn't _mean_ anything. Luke wasn't stupid; he would see right through D'Arca's little games, and there was no guilt attached to manipulating someone who was seeking to manipulate you. He could have been there for any number of reasons, none of them the ones D'Arca intended. Or he may simply view this as a political obligation, given her family's zealous support leading up to and following his accession. But ambitious as she was, D'arca could well have greater objectives in play.  
And she would no doubt be rather adept at wrapping men round her little finger; they had probably taught that as a lesson at that expensive Finishing School she went to. Hell, with her kind of breeding, she'd probably been taking lessons since kindergarten.

Mara could feel the indignant scowl settling on her face; maybe it was about time she had a little word with D'Arca… in person.

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The grand, galleried corridors of the East Tower, where the few elite who still maintained apartments within the Palace Towers were gathered, glowed crimson in the evening light, the mirror image of the setting sun bounced from the curved mercury-glass inner walls of the four towers to reflect in perpetuity, its reflection trapped between them until it fell below the horizon.

Mara catwalked past the few dignitaries who talked quietly between themselves, their work officially over, though for some this was their true vocation. A good deal of pacts and agreements were still bartered this way in Palpatine's Palace of Mirrors, despite Luke's attempts to clamp down. The few who recognized Mara nodded politely in recognition of her status; she was one of what were privately referred to as 'The Survivors'; those who had maintained their position despite the changeover of power. There were few other 'Survivors' who had any real knowledge of her past, even here, and those who did knew better than to speak it out loud; one of the reasons that merited their survival.

Mara slowed at the wide atrium to the D'Arca's apartments, one of the largest residences held, spreading over a full quarter of one level in the East Tower, four D'Arca-liveried guards within. Private guards were tolerated in small numbers here in the East Tower, though strictly forbidden elsewhere.

It didn't really matter; Mara could have taken all four without breaking a sweat. As it was, she was hoping for a discrete word with the Lady of the house, so she was prepared to play the game, announcing her name and rank and waiting this out.

Shown to a reception room, Mara walked to glance out of the high windows onto the balcony beyond – and recognised where she was.

"You have a message for me?" Kiria D'Arca's speed of reaction surprised Mara as she turned back, the slim, delicate woman entering so quickly that she must have come as soon as she'd been told.

The flash of intense scarlet beneath a velvet tabard of inky grey as she glided forward reminded Mara instantly of the night when D'Arca had walked past her in Luke's apartments, head held high, and the memory instantly narrowed Mara's eyes. "Message?"

D'Arca paused almost at the centre of the room, seeming amused at her own misunderstanding, "I thought you were delivering a message… from the Emperor."

Mara took a half-step forward, holding out a small data chip, "No, I came to hand this over – I thought you might want it."

D'Arca frowned, "What is it?"

"It's an image from high orbit. Yourself and the Emperor, I believe… on that balcony behind me,"

D'Arca's face changed just slightly, eyes narrowing warily in realization as to what this really was. "Oh that's right… you're his little bodyguard."

Mara felt her hackles rise, a slow, empty smile widening her lips, "Among other things."

D'Arca looked her up and down, unfazed, "Of course. I remember you now. Commander Jade, isn't it? You were Palpatine's little assassin, his trained garrall."

"Among other things."

D'Arca glanced down to the data chip, "Is this all you came for?"

"This… and a little clarification."

A slow smile came to those rosebud lips, "He hasn't told you."

"Told me what?"

D'Arca remained still for several seconds, gauging Mara, those mahogany-brown eyes missing nothing, "Forgive me," she said at last, "If the Emperor did not see fit to tell you, then I hardly feel it is my place. If you have anything to raise, it should be with him."

"Right," Mara said, "I'll just go rushing in, guns blazing, demanding the facts, huh?"

Kiria gave the slightest of shrugs, "However you wish. I'm sure he's used to such from you."

Mara narrowed her eyes, "Perhaps I should mention it was you who told me to do it?"

"I did no such thing." Kiria said smoothly.

The two women fell to silence for long seconds, regarding each-other, the first real volley fired.

"Tell me, commander Jade, were you loyal to your old master? Did you always do as he commanded?"

Mara's chin rose, "Are you accusing me of treason now?"

"No, quite the opposite. I believe you were a loyal and dedicated vassal. That you followed Emperor Palpatine's orders to the letter. I wonder… would you still?"

"Meaning?"

"Would you like the truth, Commander Jade? Would you like to know what your Emperor had ordained? If I told you the truth, would you honor his command?"

Mara desperately wanted to say no. wanted to turn on her heel and not give the woman the satisfaction, but some part of her burned to know, even though she knew Kiria's words would be divisive… She remained still, and D'Arca continued, voice a honeyed mix of coldness and compassion.

"Because you were never meant to remain with him, Commander Jade. You were a means to an end, a resource to fulfill a requirement, chosen for that reason alone. You were a convenience for your old master, Mara Jade, and a temporary one at that. Palpatine never intended for you to stay – for you to be anything more than a passing interest."

Palpatine's words from long ago cut through Mara's memories like a knife; _"We do not speak enough of your new role, my dear… You were among the very first I considered."  
_"_Among the very first…"_

With a terrible clarity, Mara realized that she was looking at her replacement.

And D'Arca knew it, those sharp eyes missing nothing. Nor did she miss the opportunity it presented.

"You are beautiful" Kiria allowed, stepping close to study Mara, making her cheeks flush uncharacteristically to be the object of scrutiny from such flawless perfection. "In a rustic, uninspiring way." Kiri added without malice. "You think that will hold him, because it has thus far, but things are about to change, Mara Jade. He is Emperor now- and I believe he is a good Emperor; an intelligent man. I believe he takes his position and his responsibilities very seriously."

"Are you saying I don't?" Mara challenged, still stung by D'Arca's words.

"Do you?" Kiria asked, the slightest of lines setting at the corners of those almond eyes as she narrowed them doubtfully, "Then do you seriously think he believes for one second that he can afford such follies or indulgences as you anymore? You're a trinket and that is all you will ever be, because as little as I know him, I recognize a born leader when I am in their presence, and he is everything that his station demands. Believe me when I tell you that he'll come to realize that there is no room in his life for such… personal amusements. He is the Emperor now, and he is justly surrounded by polished diamonds – his crude, vulgar little trinket will very soon lose its sparkle "

She set her head to one side, dark doe-eyes coolly disparaging, continuing in those perfectly modulated tones. "The hard truth is that you will always be a gutter-snipe. One of Palpatine's strange little experiments that just won't go away, a toy that he used for a while to distract his protégé. But Palpatine's gone and so is your influence, and the new Emperor will never keep you, not now - he's too shrewd for that. He knows what Palpatine knew and was preparing for. He knows that what he needs now is to cement his reign, his legitimacy, and to do that, he needs to marry into an old family such as the D'Arca's. He has the power and I have the bloodline… and you have neither, which makes you surplus to requirements. If you cared for him at all - if you had a single noble bone in your swain, provincial body, you would scurry on back to whichever gutter you were dragged from and disappear."

The words left Mara speechless – for all of ten seconds. "I may not have the bloodline, but I've got more integrity in my little finger than you have in your whole scrawny little body."

Kiria set her head to one side, soft tone edged by steel, "Enough to leave?"

"To make way for you?!" Mara was incredulous.

"To answer Palpatine's command."

"It's funny how this command I never heard just happens to coincide with your interests."

Kiria didn't answer immediately; instead, she began a slow walk towards the wide sweep of the balcony, clearly considering her next move. Mara tensed for the coming volley - she didn't have to wait too long.

"I had hoped to appeal to your sense of duty, Commander Jade." Kiria said coolly, "I don't wish this to be reduced to common acrimony. I would like to think that given the facts and the opportunity, you would bow out gracefully."

"And leave the field clear for you? How very charitable of me."

"How very _dutiful_." Kiria corrected pointedly.

"You know, if someone other than you had asked, I might just have thought about it… but for you?" Mara shook her head, "No. I don't think I'll consign Luke to that."

Kiria's mahogany eyes widened slightly, and Mara didn't miss the subtle realization of what it meant; she hadn't known – D'Arca hadn't even known Luke's real name. _That_ was the extent of their involvement to date.

Mara almost laughed. "You want a fight, that's fine. I'm used to fighting for everything I've got.

Those almond eyes narrowed again, "I'm sure you are. You look like you would be."

"And you look like you've never had to fight for anything in your life - which isn't the advantage you think."

As soon as she'd said it Mara bit her tongue at giving so much away to her rival, knowing that Luke would find her practiced, polished facade arrogant and elitist, that her perfect veneer would hide nothing of the woman within, not from him.

"In point of fact, you're right." Kiria purred in perfect cadence, "I'm not used to fighting, I'm used to winning – very quickly."

"That's because you've never fought me before." Mara said.

"On the contrary I have." Kiria corrected mildly, "That's why I'm here today. And I did it so well that you never even knew. Palpatine had a simple choice to make; you or me."

Mara tilted her head to concede the fact; she hadn't thought about it in those terms, but Palpatine must have at some point made the decision he hadn't had the time to bring about; to replace Mara with Kiria. Because whan she looked back, he had certainly begun subtle manipulations to casually incorporate the woman into Luke's life – to begin to form a connection. The betrayal twisted Mara's stomach, but still she had the focus to point out the obvious, "Unfortunately Palpatine's not here anymore."

"That's less of a drawback than you would imagine." Kiria maintained, eyes again taking in Mara as a whole, as if she were still sizing up her opponent. "If he were, certain… concessions would have to be made to maintain my association with The Heir. Now I'm freed of them."

"As am I." Mara saw the slight uncertainty in D'Arca's face but barely had time to wonder at it before the woman launched into her next volley.

"Do you know him at all, this man whose feelings you claim to protect?"

Mara hesitated, and it was all the encouragement Kiria needed, "Because if you did, you'd know that he needs this. He knows it. That's why he will do it - because it's the right thing to do. He will do it because he needs this. He will do it because it finally frees him to move forward. He will do it for many reasons, but he _will_ do it. You come here and claim some connection yet you would willingly make this so very difficult for him."

"He doesn't have to do anything."

A tight smile made her ruby lips seem hard, "Don't – don't be naïve. Don't deceive yourself and worse, don't try to deceive him. Don't make this harder. Of course he has to do this. He knows it, his advisors know it – even you do, deep down."

"See that's the thing," Mara said, "I don't. And no matter how many different ways you find to back up your claims, that doesn't make them true."

"Let me ask you this then; are you doing what he wants – what he needs – in coming here tonight… or are you fulfilling your own agenda, Commander Jade?" Kiria lifted her hands, faceted stones catching the light. "Please, don't answer now. Think on it. Are you truly doing what you believe is right for your Empire and your Emperor… or are you answering your own selfish wishes?"

Mara set her head on one side; "Oh, that's good… you're very, very good."

"Perhaps I'm simply right."

Mara narrowed her eyes, "You know, I think you actually believe you are."

"Whatever you may choose to believe Commander, I have the Emperor's best interests at heart."

"Because they serve you."

"Because _I_ serve _him_, Commander Jade – as do you; remember that."

Mara lifted her chin. "I've never forgotten it."

"Then I trust that loyalty and logic will prevail. The former is an admirable trait in any citizen – and the latter is the sign of a true leader." Kiria glanced down at the data chip still in Mara's hand, "You may keep the memory chip Commander Jade," She turned, one hand subconsciously falling to her side to fan the train of her elegant gown neatly aside, a scarlet flash against dusky velvet, her final words delivered as she left the room without looking back. "I have no need of it. I have the real article."

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**CHAPTER EIGHT**

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Luke stood outside the door of Mara's apartment in the North Tower, the hour late, the galleried corridor empty.

He'd waited long hours and taken great care to see that his trip here was unseen, and now he was risking all that by standing in the corridor and simply staring at the door, the night's events running over in his head.

Kiria D'Arca had attended the state dinner to mark the annual re-opening of the Colony Systems' Executive Assembly tonight, and as the evening ground on for Luke, she had managed to turn a tedious trial into an impending problem when, as if by casual accident, she had dropped into her conversation with him that his bodyguard Jade had visited her four days earlier – and the flash of guilt that had fired through Luke had surprised him.

"Mara? Why?"

D'Arca had turned, amused, "She wished to make her loyalties clear, shall we say. I suppose she wanted only to protect you. It's nothing, really. Don't be angry with her."

Luke cooled, wondering if D'Arca really believed he could be so easily led by divisive words, "Then why bring it up?

Kiria shrugged slightly and the heavy, ruby-encrusted necklace about her slender throat glinted in the low light. "I suppose I didn't want you to hear it from somewhere else. Now I'm afraid you're angry with me."

He was, in truth, angry at himself; he should have known that there were no secrets here if even one person other than himself knew the truth. _Never trust._ And anyway, he should have been the one to bring this to Mara; should have known she'd find out and that when she did, she'd act upon it. He couldn't, in all conscience, be angry with her… and there it was again; conscience. Palpatine would have laughed in his face, would have ridiculed the pitiful flaw and scorned Luke's weakness.

Weakness… stood before Mara's door, Luke thought again of Kiria D'Arca's words, spoken with such reasonable restraint and tolerance, but absolute certainty;

* * *

"If I may… as I said before, how you chose to occupy your private time is your own affair Excellency, and I have already stated that I will never question it. But I see what you are doing in your public life, the changes you seek to put in place. I have watched you for a year now, and I know that what you have done is only the beginning."

Luke had glanced up, surprised at her acumen, though he automatically denied her words, unwilling to be cornered. "I thought you were sharper than to believe the HoloNet hype."

"I am." She had said simply. "I'm also sharp enough to come to my own conclusions… as I know you are, Excellency. So you know as well as I do that the changes you're putting in place require support; stability. And you know that I can give you that; that's why you haven't dismissed this out of hand. You intend to build a new Empire and I want to be part of that. I make no further requests. I understand the hard compromises necessary to achieve one's goals, as I believe you do. I understand my place in this course of action, as I believe you do." She hesitated, her omission of Mara's name politely pointed, and Luke had sensed the sharp twist of uncertainty that she held in check behind her ambition as she pushed forward. "The simple truth is that no-one else can achieve for you what you need right now. No-one else could be Empress and you know it – not if you intend to continue these reforms."

"Thank you for your opinion." Luke had turned away, but to her credit, D'Arca had once again stuck to her guns.

"Please don't misunderstand; I bear her no ill will, and I feel no threat from her, because I know that you will have already considered all that I've said long before tonight and drawn your own conclusions. I certainly know that you will look beyond any… personal considerations. And so, I hope, will she – despite her words."

* * *

'_You will look beyond any personal considerations.'_

Luke sighed, staring at the closed door before him; she was right of course, he would. But what gave him the right to expect the same those around him?

His discussion with Nathan just days before came to mind, Nathan skewering the problem as ever,  
'_I was just curious, as to where Mara fits in to the plans…'  
_'_Mara doesn't…'  
_'_Are you sure? Because you need to be.'_

Moments; a hundred moments came rushing in as he stood before Mara's door now, wracked by indecision, responsibilities and desires colliding.

Mara's words, long ago;  
_"You're saying that you're capable of hurting me? I don't believe you."_

Nathan, as ever trying to cut to the heart of the matter;  
_"So you do trust her?"  
_"_No, I don't trust her."  
_"…_Would it be completely foolish of me to ask what you're doing with her then?"_

Mara's earnest question to Luke;  
_"Do I complicate things?"  
_"Y_es, incredibly."_

His father's judgment, which Luke had carried like a curse ever since;  
_'We are solitary creatures by necessity. We can only destroy that which we value. You cannot be close to another– you cannot allow another to be close to you. Failure is inevitable and the consequences will spiral from your control.'  
_"_I am not you."_ Luke had whispered his reply a hundred times, less sure by the day.  
Tonight the words wouldn't come.

Instead, he remembered the night he had told Mara of his father's warning… an admission of his own feelings;_  
"Someone once told me that I could only destroy that which I loved."  
__"You know I…"  
_"_Don't say it. Don't ever say it."  
_"_Why?"  
_"…_..What if I've cursed us both already?" _

"_You're allowing her too close." _His father's words still stung, and Luke still heard the empty promise he'd made in reply;  
"_She's not a weakness because I won't allow her to be. Is that what you wanted to hear?" _

Reece's advice on the night of the Patriot's launch;  
"_You need to inspire confidence by example – by a method they recognize in a language they understand... __You need to start acting like the Statesman they need you to be."_

"_It's not enough to be a leader." _His own words, to Leia, just weeks ago; _"It's not enough to have a goal – you have to find a path to get there, to get everyone there. And if you see it, you have to seize it with both hands… because it may never come again."_

How many times had he accused those around him of hypocrisy? He had no right to ask any less of himself than he asked of an enemy. No reason, no justification, no validation. No right.

Letting his breath out in a long, unsteady sigh, Luke stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door.

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	14. Chapter 14

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She knew; she knew before she reached the door of her apartment who was outside, and that alone was reason to raise her heartbeat. When was the last time Luke had come to _her_?

He looked up as the door slid aside and Mara glanced about, even more curious; he was alone. No guards, no adjutants. Alone.

"Can I come in?"

Mara stepped aside in silence, heart pounding- why did she have a feeling of dread gnawing at her now? This was it - this was her future sliding from her grasp and she had no idea how to stop it.

He followed her through the reception room into the long, open space of her main living room, glancing about as she turned to face him.

"You changed the furniture." He observed calmly, mismatched eyes taking in the familiar, comfortably-proportioned room.

"Yeah well, eighteen months is a long time." Why had she said it like that? Why had she bitten when he hadn't even told her why he was here?

He brought crystal eyes to her, cooled by her words, looking clean through her and down into her soul. "I should leave."

He was half-turned about when Mara spoke, and it gave her some measure of satisfaction that her words, part accusation part betrayal, stopped him dead, "You're going to marry her aren't you?"

Luke silently wondered why he'd come. What possible misguided, illogical reason had been running through his head? Still, he turned back; he should at least have the decency to face her when he said it; "Yes."

"Why?"

Luke sighed, and it was so much harder now; to see the fire and the injured dignity in those forest green eyes. "Because I have to. Because the timing is right. Because it's an unmatched opportunity."

"Because you love her?"

"I don't even know her, you know that."

"Really?" There was a brittleness to Mara's voice, "Because she seems to spend an awful lot of time here."

He almost replied and then caught himself, fine lines appearing and disappearing in an instant, his own barriers raising now. "I don't have anything I feel the need to justify to you, Mara."

"And to her?" Oh, that was a low blow; she saw it land and watched the shadow of injured uncertainty brush his face before it was concealed.

"I'm sure she's old enough to take care of herself."

"Of course. We're all adults." Mara agreed acidly.

He looked up, eyes sharp, "Do you have something you want to say?"

Mara was vaguely aware that she was tapping her foot in fast staccato, "To you or to the Emperor?"

He set his head to one side at that, "Aren't you always telling me they're one and the same?"

She had to give him that one, arching her eyebrows. "Just… tell me why?"

"I just told you why." He said evenly. "That's it; those are my reasons, all of them. There are no others." He shrugged, realizing at last why he had come here; "I just… wanted you to know that."

They stood just a single step apart, each locked in place, Luke by his responsibilities and Mara by her pride. Seconds stretched into eons and neither spoke; neither moved, drawn together but held apart.

Finally Luke tensed his jaw, turning to leave – what had he expected?

"Don't do it." Mara's own voice surprised her, dredged up from the depths of her soul.

He paused without turning back, "You always wanted me to be Emperor Mara- well this is what it takes to stand here, to be this person. Surely a man in this position must make his decisions based on the greater picture – based on how well they serve and what they gain him, as Palpatine did. Well this is it."

"This isn't what I want." she said, shaking her head.

He turned to her, a mixture of frustration, request and disbelief in his voice, "What_ you_ _want_… should I rule an Empire on what you want - is that what you're asking?"

"No!" She said, eyes like emeralds now, "You know it's not. Why do you do this, why do you twist everything?"

"You forget who my teacher was." He said darkly, "But I don't forget who yours was; I'm not the only one who's twisting the knife." Mara raised her chin in question and Luke set his head to one side, unmoved, "You're asking me to give up an opportunity that could save countless lives. You're asking _me_ to make that decision Mara – to take that responsibility. On your whim – on a _personal_ inclination."

"Whose?" Mara said, "Yours or mine?"

Luke paused; just a fraction of a second, but she knew he felt he'd slipped in the heat of the moment and said too much. Still, he only shook his head, refusing to be drawn, "I don't know what you really want Mara - and I don't think you do either."

"You!" _And how could he even say that?_ "I always wanted you!"

"I offered me; I asked you to leave with me the day before my accession but you said stay. Because you always wanted both, Mara; you wanted the Emperor, but you wanted him with blue eyes and wide shoulders and-

She stepped in, hand coming up in fury at the accusation; that he'd been a substitute- a surrogate.

He caught her wrist easily, holding it still before his face without effort. "You wanted the latest model, Mara - isn't that the truth?"

Oh, he knew so well how to hurt her, no-one alive could cut like he did; to the quick in an instant, no mercy spared. Did she admire that too? Secretly, privately; in the darkest shadows of her heart?

He brought her arm down and she snatched it away, hand about her wrist, making him lower his eyes for an instant, a guilty shade to his expression.

When he spoke it was calmly and quietly; in control again, "I don't want to argue, and I haven't come for your consent or your blessing."

"Then what have you come for?"

And again that change came over him, deeper this time, in his stance, in his sense; in the blue of his eyes…

"To say I'm sorry."

"Not sorry enough, apparently." Mara bit out, and he set his head to one side but said nothing.

He'd come to apologize out of respect for their past and he'd done so; he owed her nothing more that he could see, so he turned to leave.

"You're a cold-hearted son of a Sith, Skywalker." The curse was out before she'd even realized it and he gave her an empty, lopsided smile, full of self-depreciation and knowing cynicism. And she laughed; she laughed because if she didn't then she'd cry, "Stars, we're still two of the most screwed-up people I know."

The last time she'd heard that said it had been from his mouth, and she'd told him that it was lucky they'd found each-other then.

"Maybe we shouldn't have..." he said quietly in a knowing nod to that distant conversation.

"What, and miss the planet-sized roller-coaster that's Luke Skywalker on an off-day?"

He glanced up sharply, but in good humor, "I think there may be a case of glass houses and stones there."

"Or unstoppable forces and immovable objects?"

Impulsively, she reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek; across the scar there. "No-one will ever come close." she murmured thoughtfully, and a genuine smile came to her lips, soft and open, lost in the memory of all that they'd been.

He paused; seemed suspended in time for long moments, as if indecision held him to uneasy, tense inaction; that kinetic, wired stillness at the heart of the storm.

"This will be the most stupid thing we ever do." He murmured, blue eyes searching hers.

She frowned, tilting her head, intensely aware of their closeness, "What?"

He was there in that second, before the word had even left her mouth, arms about her, pulling her close, every inch of their bodies yielding, desiring the contact. The heat of his lips against her own drew Mara in, pulling every single thought to the act. The room, the Palace, their lives, their responsibilities - it all blurred to nothing as it always had before the thrill which burned in her chest and lit a trail down to the pit of her stomach, tightening every muscle in the thrill of addictive anticipation. _Dance with me_

It was a wordless request sent out into the void, alive; tingling with need and desire and longing and craving. Too much denied for too long.

She felt his arms slide gently down, and just as she'd felt that night in the ballroom when she'd first whispered those words, his fingers trailed across her hips lighting a twist of featherlight shivers in their wake as she hitched a broken breath against his smiling lips, glowing, radiating passion, fire to fire.

.

.

.

As Mara opened the door of her apartment, squinting against the morning light which streamed into the galleried corridor beyond, Turis, one of Luke's adjutants, quickly pushed himself up from where he was leaning at the far wall, obviously waiting for her to appear.

"Commander Jade? I'm.. I was ordered to deliver this. With the Emperor's compliments."

He made a formal bow as he spoke, offering the small, hand-sized box, adding that he'd been told by an aide that the Emperor himself had picked the bloom from the glasshouses before leaving the Palace this morning.

Inside the black gloss box was a delicate single bloom, velvet white with a ghostly luminescence; 'Evening Star' it was called, a type of orchid so-named because it lasted only one night.

Only one night. Was that the implication so delicately presented here?

Or was it a statement that the night had meant more to him - something precious?

"Did he leave a message?"

"No, ma'am." Turis replied, "No message."

Ambiguous as ever; Mara had to let loose the slightest of lopsided smiles at that.

"Thank-you." She said, realizing that the adjutant was still watching her closely; that this little fact would be all over in the Palace rumor-mill by midday.

Turning, she retreated back into her quarters to place the bloom in water for the remainder of its short life. It would be the centre of her thoughts for the rest of the day, but no matter what she did, by tomorrow it would be gone. The flower she would let go, but the man?

Despite everything, despite where he was right now and what he intended, she still believed that they had something worth fighting for. Everything that they'd had, she wanted back, and she was prepared to fight for it. She just didn't know how - and against greater obligations, neither did he.

So what did she do now?

If it was over, if there was nothing to salvage, he would have removed her by now, she knew that. But he hadn't, and she hadn't left - wouldn't until he dismissed her from his life entirely. And there were a plethora of people probably telling him to do just that right now. Offering to do it for him, more than likely.

Yet he had sent her a flower- one that he had taken the time to pick himself. Which meant he couldn't let go either; didn't want her to go.

For now that was good enough; that was worth fighting for.

.

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	15. Chapter 15

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"We're going where?" Reece asked, turning from the wide sweep of viewscreens on the Patriot's command bridge..

"Giju – on the Rimma Trade Route." Mara replied tersely, "I'm sure you've heard of it."

"Yes, I've heard of it." Reece bit out tightly, "I want to know why we're going. Our itinerary puts us at Commenor."

Mara glanced to Admiral Joss, stood beside Reece and looking equally confused – though far more receptive. Which was hardly surprising considering that Reece had handed the Emperor's itinerary over to an unknown conspirator and now, three days out of Coruscant, Luke was about to deviate from it. "I requested the diversion to attend to military business and the Emperor agreed. You're ordered to make the course change please, Admiral."

As Admiral Joss nodded, turning to the Ship's Captain to pass the order, Reece closed on Mara. "We can't simply change the itinerary at will."

Mara arched an eyebrow, "Really, why? Because last time I checked Luke was still Emperor."

"What's so important on Giju that it can't wait?"

"Do you have some reason for this, Reece?" Mara parried, tempted to touch at the truth although Luke had expressly forbidden her to make so much as a vague hint that they knew what he was really doing. "Because you seem exceptionally put out."

Reece pursed his lips, turning away, "No, of course not. But the itineraries are planned months in advance."

"We'll make a few changes and shuffle dates by a day or two. We'll probably be back on course by our homeward journey, or near enough."

In truth, Mara was quite curious as to why they were making this particular diversion too. All she knew was that Luke had called her into his ready-room on the bridge of the Patriot this morning, four days into a short, planned voyage taking in Corellia, Commenor, Nemoidia and Kuat.

Luke's well-known reluctance to remain on Coruscant when still Heir, often travelling with the fleet, had been one of the methods that he had utilized to extricate himself from Court in the early days of his reign, since Court traditionally convened only on the Capital Planet. It had also enabled him to build up a kind of an alternative itinerant Court of trusted advisors who had traditionally travelled as part of his entourage, further distancing Court from the daily workings of the new Empire.

Whilst the main objective, of changing by default rather than decree the day to day running of the Empire, had been achieved, a secondary effect was that travel of this kind wasn't unusual for the Emperor, nor were unplanned diversions – in fact, he was well known for them. But this one, for which he'd asked Mara to take responsibility in order that he could disrupt his planned itinerary, was as much a mystery to Mara as anyone else. All she knew was that in order to put their timetable out by four days and miss one stop entirely, thus rendering the information Reece had passed on useless, Luke had told Mara to claim they needed to make an unplanned stop on Giju.

It all made perfect sense… which was why, taking into account her new practice of dismissing on principle anything Luke did which seemed undeniably plausible or patently logical, Mara knew there was something more going on.

Which meant Luke was up to something.

Just what exactly didn't become clear until they'd exited hypespace and made orbit around Giju. Luke had remained unavailable for the remainder of that morning, effectively enabling him to avoid any questions from Reece but now, with an adjutant contacting the Emperor's ready-room to inform him that they were in orbit around Giju, Luke finally appeared on the Bridge, turning everyone's heads expectantly.

When he approached the small gaggle of officers which included Reece, Mara, Joss and Captain Kavanagh, it was the Captain who spoke first.

"Do you have a course, Excellency?"

Luke turned to Mara, mismatched eyes twinkling gamely, "Mara?"

Aware that she was supposed to have requested the change, but with no idea of what for, Mara was well aware that Luke had put her on the spot for his own amusement, and was sorely tempted to name something outrageous just to see what he'd do. She searched her memory for _any_ city on Giju's surface to order geostationary orbit over, but was saved when the Com officer spoke out loudly from the sunken ops pit.

"Sirs, I have an incoming alert from the shipyards at Fondor; they're requesting military aid. The shipyard's under attack from an unknown source."

Eyes still on Mara, Luke raised his eyebrows in the worst pretence of surprise Mara had ever seen, "Really?"

Mara narrowed her eyes, tilting her head and tapping her foot in silent disapproval as he continued, eyes smiling though he kept a straight face.

"Helm, how far is Fondor by fastest speed?"

Reece stepped forward immediately, "Sir, it's my duty to advise you against taking the Patriot into a pitch battle."

"Thank you Reece." Luke replied without turning to him, "Your dutiful advice has been noted. Helm?"

"It's in-system Sir." The Helm officer hesitated as the calculation came through, "Best speed is thirty-one minutes by lightspeed."

Mara grinned sweetly, "Oh, what a pity, it'll be over by the time we arrive. Hardly seems worth going."

Luke glanced down, evidencing disappointment, but not quite enough for Mara's liking. She, Nathan and Clem had been fighting a discrete unspoken battle to wean Luke off any further front-line action in the last year, despite Luke's constant desire to remain there. It had, apparently, come to this now; Luke resorting to games within games to catch them out, clearly playing on Mara's awareness that Reece needed to be kept out of the loop in certain decisions to ensure that the Patriot would be in the right place at the right time. Because he had surely known when the Fondor attack was about to take place, emerging from his ready-room with pinpoint timing – just to let her know that she'd been played, all be it good-humouredly.

That he still found pleasure in such mischievous tricks still had the ability to amuse Mara, the edges of her lips twitching just slightly at the roguish look in his eye. Because this time, his calculations had been just slightly out; they were too far from the battle to intervene.

Luke nodded in assent, pursing his lips in disappointment as he turned away… then paused as if a thought had just occurred, "Helm; what would it take off our time to use the Gandeal-Fondor hyperlane?"

Mara narrowed her eyes, already knowing the answer; _this_ was why they'd come to Giju; it was on the classified, military-only hyperlane created to move military hardware to and from the Fondor Shipyards. If he'd had information from Argot, Luke would never use it as patently as going directly to Fondor, but he'd want to ensure he was, just coincidentally, within easy reach.

"Sir, it would take the jump down to eleven minutes."

Luke let out a beautific smile to Mara; "Oh isn't that handy?"

"Yes," Mara nodded wryly, still tapping her foot. "Isn't it just?"

..

They didn't bother to set the drop-out point too closely; by chance, Fondor happened to have an operational Imperial Interdictor in its military shipyard, so they'd simply set co-ordinates to skim the outer edge of the shipyard, knowing the Interdictor's gravity well would pull them out of hyperspace right in the middle of the battle, all be it rather roughly. It wasn't what you'd call a textbook reversion, but then this wasn't a textbook situation – and off-the page was the kind of category that Luke excelled at.

"Tactical?"

"Sir, there are about fifty snub-nose fighters and one small frigate, all using Rebel channels. The two ISD's are the Hurricane and the Sentry. The Interdictor is the Thorn."

Stood at the fore of the bridge, Luke glanced about taking in the ongoing battle, mostly small dogfights with both Imperial Destroyers concentrating their firepower on the Frigate, which had left a wide trail of heavy damage where it had obviously opened up every gun it had on the Fondor Shipyards. Three small freighters were doing their best to stay to the fringe of the ongoing battle as all the Rebel ships powered for the invisible edge of the massive gravity well being created by the Interdictor, which presently held the Rebel ships from entering lightspeed as efficiently as it had pulled the Patriot from it.

"Are either of our Destroyers DEMP shielded?"

"No Sir."

Luke frowned, eyes drawn to the shipyards as another massive explosion burst out of one of the covered airtight docking bays of the shipyard, collapsing quickly to nothing as it consumed the available oxygen, the small freighters rocking precariously as they ran alongside the damaged spacedocks trying to stay ahead of the frigate's guns. "Tactical, bring our DEMPs online with a one-eighty forward spread and wait for my order. Helm, bring us around the back of the fight and get us between it and the shipyards, tail to the yards. Don't open fire yet. Com, get me the Captains of our ships – and contact the shipyards on a secure channel."

..

Han Solo glanced spaceward as a massive blur slid into realspace, coming in like a juggernaut, several snub fighters impacting on her shields as she emerged practically in the middle of the battle.

"Great." He muttered, "Fantastic."

Where the hell had that come from? There were supposed to be no further Destroyers in attack range today. It was bad enough that the Interdictor which should have been inoperative was clearly pretty damn functional, now they had… the blur had came to an abrupt halt, solidifying into gargantuan proportions and Han cursed again.

"Flight, this is Blue Leader, we have a Super Star Destroyer just landed practically on top of us." Han said, "You got an ID on our new headache?"

"Blue Leader, no ID's being transmitted. Stand by."

"Hn." Han grimaced as he switched channels again, "Blue Leader to Rogue Leader – your Artoo unit got a make on our friend there?"

"Blue leader, this is Rogue One. No, it's not transmitting. You think it has DEMP?"

"I think I don't wanna find out the hard way." Han said, juking his A-Wing away from the newcomer. _This_ was why running sorties in the Colony Systems wasn't smart.

Wedge's voice came back on the com seconds later; "Blue leader? My Artoo thinks it's either the Eclipse or the Patriot."

Han grunted again, cursing under his breath, "How lucky you feelin' today?"

"All things considered, not very." Wedge replied wryly, and Han had to concur.

There were about fifteen Super-class Star Destroyers divided up between the Core and the Rim fleets, but as yet only four sported the new DEMP technology. The Patriot was one of them, the Eclipse, as yet, was not. And either two answered the configuration of the Destroyer which hung like judgment between them and the Fondor Shipyards.

"Could be the Annihilator too, based on its spec." Wedge said, considering.

"Not helping Wedge." Han growled.

"Wing Leaders, this is Flight." The calm voice of mission control cut over all channels, "We need about four minutes to get the lugs clear."

"You're kidding me, four minutes!" Han grumbled without activating his comlink, "_You_ sit in this suicide sled for four minutes." He glanced about, identifying his wing as he flicked his com on, "Blue flight, this is Blue Leader – you heard what the nice lady said. Let's give 'em four minutes."

..

"Sir, we have the Destroyer Captains online. They're requesting an ID."

Luke half-turned, "Send a coded ID only. Tell them to pull to either side of the Interdictor and box the Rebel ships in with crossfire – and tell them to concentrate fire on the Rebel frigate; it's trying to get close enough to the Interdictor to shut the gravity generators down. Then order the Interdictor to start pulling back from the shipyards, slow enough to keep the Rebels racing for the edge of the gravity cone. I want them as far away from the station as we can get them."

Mara turned, realizing what he was about to do, "You're going to fire the DEMP?"

Luke kept his eyes on the battle without speaking.

"You have two Destroyers and an Interdictor out there." Mara said, "If you fire the DEMP they'll all be in range."

"The two Destroyers can jump." Luke replied. "We'll only lose an Interdictor and fortunately it just happens to be at an Imperial shipyard anyway." He half-turned, tone light. "Convenient."

Oh, he was loving this, she knew; being in the line of fire again, making split-second decisions without the endless cross-examination and deliberation required of any action taken in the Capital. She turned to look out, "How will you co-ordinate deactivating the gravity well from the Interdictor?"

"We'll charge the DEMPs and follow their lead, not the other way round." Luke said distractedly, attention on the side of the shipyards as the Patriot made a close pass to come up behind the battle. "Why are there freighters here?"

Mara turned, "What?"

"Freighters – why are there civilian freighters in a military shipyard?" He turned quickly to the Ops pit, "Com, contact those freighters and tell them to power down or we'll open fire. I want them held."

"Yes Sir. Sir, the TIE Flights are seeking permission to launch?"

"No. Contact the freighters first, then tell the TIE's they're to stay in the bays."

..

Han grimaced as heavy laser fire flashed past nearby, whiting out his vision and making him blink rapidly to try to clear it. He glanced to his scopes to check that his wingman was still there, "Bravo three; Vince, you still flyin'?"

"In one piece boss."

"Blue Leader, this is Flight." Han's earphones crackled, "We have a request from the lugs; they have a little too much attention on them right now and need a diversion."

"Roger that, Flight." Han switched channels, "Blue leads and elements; load torpedoes, let's see if we can get their attention."

The nimble A-Wing interceptors swung about, loosely closing together into three finger-four formations as they streaked towards the nearest Destroyer.

..

Wedge Antilles took his X-Wing in a tight twisting spiral before pulling out as close to ninety degrees as he could coax the straining fighter. Bright lances of fire shot past below him, but Wedge knew it was his wingman Wes Janson, taking the opportunity Wedge had given him to shoot down the TIE which had sat on Wedge's tail for long, agonizing seconds. Pulling up so tightly had forced the TIE to cut its speed drastically to follow Wedge, as well as getting him out of Janson's line of fire, and that had been all that his wingman had needed.

"Finally!" Wedge said into his pickup, "I thought you'd fallen asleep back there."

"Ha ha, very funny." Janson said dryly. "Next time I'll just close my eyes and fire into your fight path, huh?"

"Red Leader, could I get a bit of cover here?" It was Han; Wedge had heard Flight's request, and could already see six offensive interceptors from Blue Group dropping into a tight formation, wingmen to their edges, as they headed for the Hurricane.

"Yeah. You wanna pull a slash?" Wedge was already bringing his X-Wing about.

"Yeah, on the fore dock; you got enough ships spare?"

"Hey, we're Rogues!" Wedge said, looking to his scope, "Rogue Group, let's form up and hide the poor little A-Wings shall we? They're not as good-a pilots as us; they need a little help now and then."

Pulling into tight formation behind them, Blue group hid in the rear wash of the X-Wings' wide spearhead as they closed on the Destroyer, Han glancing down compulsively to check one more time that his torpedoes were armed. Almost blind, with limited sensors and com silence, all he could do was follow close on the X-Wing's tails and wait as they ran interference, the tiny A-Wings' sensor signatures lost in the concentrated wash of the X-Wings' combined drives.

It wasn't too long; as one, the X-Wings peeled aside to give Han a clear shot at the forward docking bays, having come up from below to maximise their field of fire.

"Blue Group; fire all torpedoes!"

The interceptors slowed, a cluster of concussion missiles fired straight up into the Destroyers hold, so that by the time Han was twisting his fighter away, the roof of the hold was collapsing and fragmenting under the concerted bombing, the contained explosions funnelled out through the open bay in a focused blast that rocked his A-Wing as he powered away with a triumphant yell.

..

Onboard the Patriot, the Com officer lifted his head, "Sir, the Hurricane is reporting heavy damage. They're requesting TIE support?"

"Negative. Order all TIE's to disengage and start pulling back past our nose. Ask the Thorn and the Hurricane to confirm they're ready for a co-ordinated jump and contact the Interdictor; tell it to collapse the gravity cone on their mark. And get the shipyard on-com; tell them if they have any DEMP shielding to bring it online."

..

A fleet-wide com cut through Han's headset as he brought his interceptor around, bracing for the incoming fire from TIE's… "All fighters, this is Flight; the lugs are clear and you are 'go' for exit. I repeat, all ships are cleared for lightspeed."

Han pursed his lips; "Yeah, could somebody tell the Interdictor that." He was practically skimming the trench which formed the inset edge of the massive Star Destroyer now, hoping to narrow the angles from which the inevitable TIE response would come…

_Should_ come… "Red Leader – are you gettin' TIE fire?"

"Negative Blue Leader. TIE's seem to be thinning. The Destroyers are still concentrating fire on our frigate though."

Han glanced down to his scopes, risking turning the scan system from tactical to broad for a moment. Both Destroyers were powering up for something. Han glanced again to the brooding bulk of the Super Star Destroyer, which as yet hadn't fired a single shot. On impulse, he yanked his craft around, taking a sensor sweep of the immense airborne fortress. Powering up; practically off the scale. Juking away, he switched com channel. "Flight, you got an ID on the SSD yet?"

"Negative Blue Leader."

Wedge's voice cut in, "You think it's the Patriot?"

Han grimaced, "There's one way to find out."

..

"Sir.." the Com officer onboard the Patriot glanced up again, voice uncertain, "We're being hailed… by a Rebel A-Wing."

Luke turned about, "An A-Wing?"

"Yes Sir. Blue Leader's requesting to speak with the commanding officer."

A slow grin spread over Luke's face, "Put him on speaker."

"…say again, this is the Alliance A-Wing Commander requesting..."

"Hello Han."

There was a long pause, then, "I _knew_ it!"

"We seem to have you at a slight disadvantage."

"…… not necessarily."

Luke suppressed a smile at Han's usual outrageous overconfidence, "Really? It seems that way to me from the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer that's pointing straight at you."

"Yeah well… it would."

Luke remained silent, and eventually Han's voice came on the com again, "Listen, if we keep flyin' toward it, are you gonna keep moving that Interdictor back outta reach?"

"I don't know – why don't you try it and find out."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You could always try flying away from it."

"Toward you? No thanks." In his cockpit, Han frowned. Reaching forward, he toggled the com to broadcast over the open Alliance channel so everyone could hear this. "You're not seriously thinking of firing the DEMP are you?"

"I'll tell you what, you tell me what you're really doing here and I'll tell you whether I'm seriously thinking of firing the DEMP."

"You fire the DEMP and you lose two Destroyers and an Interdictor."

"You know, I _think_ I have a few other ships in my fleet."

"You're gonna lose three front-line ships for _us_?"

"No, I'm going to exchange one Interdictor for something else entirely. You just happen to inhabit the same space, I'm afraid."

..

"What the hell does that mean?" Han automatically juked the stick again as he shot out of the side-trench of the Destroyer, still waiting for those TIE's to pick him up… still nothing. In fact, the amount of TIE's in the field had noticeably thinned now, most of them ahead of him, powering for the Patriot.

Han frowned, glancing to the two Destroyers which boxed in the battlefield with heavy fire. Since the Patriot's arrival they'd manoeuvred into key positions, one firing high across the field of combat and over it's opposite's head, the other firing low, creating a wide barrier of heavy fire below and beneath its opposite. Now, that box was beginning to loosen slightly as both Destroyers brought their noses clear of the melee.

_Brought their noses clear… TIE's had thinned… __poweri__ng up__… "You're gonna lose three front-line ships… No, I'm going to exchange one Interdictor…"_  
_Brought their noses clear… "Lose three front line ships... No.."_

Sith! "They're gonna jump clear so you can fire the DEMP, aren't they?!" Han said of the Destroyers, already bringing his interceptor screaming around in a tight loop and powering back towards the nearest Destroyer, knowing that in seconds it would be gone and he'd have a clear exit to hyperspace as the Interdictor collapsed its gravity well to allow the Destroyers to escape the DEMP's crippling charge.

Han could almost _hear_ the smile in Luke's assured voice; "I have to go now Han – and I suppose you'll need a short break to tell your cohorts that yes, the Destroyer they're looking at does indeed have DEMP capability."

There was a short pause and a slightly apologetic tone to Han's next words, "You're already patched through to the fleet."

All around Han other Rebel craft were reorienting, pushing for safety, the Rebel frigate turning its bulk directly into the path of the Destroyer's fire…

..

Onboard the Patriot, Luke smiled for a second, tilting his head, "Ah. Well then there's nothing more to be said. I'll speak to you shortly Han."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute…"

"Com; cut the transmission. Order the Hurricane and the Sentry to lightspeed. Inform the Thorn to collapse the gravity cone on their mark."

"Sir we have confirmation from all three ships."

"Do it. Tactical, set a one-eighty spread, single DEMP pulse….." Luke paused, waiting for the brief flicker of motion from the Destroyers which forewarned their jump to lightspeed. "... Fire."

..  
..

Han's dead A-Wing drifted randomly in the daunting silence, one of a myriad of small fighters tumbling helplessly without power, the light of the Fondor Shipyards picking out their angled surfaces as they slowly spun, no way to correct their arbitrary tumble. He'd spent the last minute or so letting loose a string of curses in Corellian, Bocce and Huttese, and had stopped now simply because he'd run out of words.

Releasing the now pointless stick, he brought his hands up to rub his face… and his small A-Wing jolted with teeth-rattling impact, jostling Han in the flight harness he wore. "What the hell?"

The darkened battlefield before him began to slowly retreat, and it took a few disorienting seconds for Han to realize he was being pulled backwards by a tractor beam. Luke's last words, forgotten in the heat of the moment, came keenly back to mind; _"I'll speak to you shortly Han."_

_._

_._


	16. Chapter 16

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Standing upright on the seat as his A-Wing as its canopy opened in the Patriot's massive bay, Han was greeted by the sight of six stormtroopers, blasters already raised, motioning for him to get out. This was just turning out to be a great day. Glancing across another four full rows of blue-pauldroned troopers who stood at-ready, he slowly climbed out, one of the nearest troopers reaching to take the blaster from his hip-holster. They must have quite a collection of his blasters by now, he reflected wryly.

The massive bay-doors which would be kept sealed in battle in case of decompression began cycling open… and walking calmly into the bay, that lithe redhead one step behind him as ever, was Luke.

Han tried a wide grin as the kid closed, "Hey… is this a good time to remind you about that thing you said – something about there being complications to every friendship but that shouldn't exclude 'em?"

"Did I say that?" That flawless Coruscanti accent; so perfect that even Han sometimes wondered… Luke came to a halt as the six stormtroopers stepped back to either side of him, guns still aimed squarely on Han.

He tried another grin. "Yeah… I distinctly remember."

Luke frowned, "I seem to remember saying something about us always seeming to meet on Star Destroyers, but…."

He was looking Han up and down as he spoke, taking in his pilot's attire. The slightest of smiles twitched at the corner of the kid's scarred lips and Han knew he was biting down on the temptation to make comment. "Go on, say it." he invited.

"Didn't you tell me piloting for the Alliance was suicide?"

Remembering well his warning to Luke just before the kid flew against the Death Star, Han tried his best lopsided smile, "Yeah, right after I offered you a get-out. Care to do the same?"

Luke set his head to one side in a half-shrug, doing a passable imitation of a Corellian accent, "You're pretty good in a fight, I could use you."

"Don't tempt me." Han said.

Luke studied him for a few seconds, that half-smile tempered by shrewd blue eyes, then the moment of amity was broken as he turned quickly away, "Come on. I have a job for you."

_Great; any Rebel agents here and that sounded just great_. Han frowned as he climbed down, "Do you actually _try_ to make me look bad?"

Luke didn't even pause, "Were you actually _trying_ to destroy my shipyard?"

"That's not the point. You… wait–" Han turned quickly, "The fighters out there, what are you gonna do with them?"

Luke half-turned to the span of open space beyond the atmospheric shields, "Do with them? Nothing."

"You're just gonna leave them out there? They're gonna run out of air pretty damn quick."

"Yes, I would imagine so – if the cold doesn't kill them first."

For a second, Han felt his anger rise… but he knew the kid better than that. "Nah, you're not gonna leave 'em out there."

"Believe me, I am sorely tempted."

"But you're not gonna do it."

The kid set his head to one side with a half-shrug. "That depends on you."

He turned away and started walking, and the sharp-eyed redhead motioned for Han to follow with a curt jerk of her head. If looks could kill, he'd already be down, Han knew.

He glanced to the troopers then set forward, walking for a few paces before uncertainly dropping his hands, glancing back to the trooper who still held his blaster, "Don't lose that – I'm gonna want it back."

.

Back in those same dark, opulent quarters that Han had visited last time he'd been onboard the Patriot, he studied Luke with the same open, nonjudgmental regard as the kid studied him. He wanted to think that Luke looked exactly the same; that the last eighteen months hadn't really changed him at all... but considering the maelstrom of events since their last talk that could never be true, and with the best will in the world, Han knew it.

Still, it would be easy to look at Luke now and see a man possessed of a confident, composed calm, the slightest edge held under strict restraint, absolutely under control both of himself and his surroundings. Most people probably did. To Han he looked tired, the dark circles beneath those pale mismatched eyes making them seem almost to glow in the low light, his slim frame held taut, everything locked up tight, nothing revealed despite their years of close friendship.

"So how's things?" he had to open with something, Han figured; may as well be that.

Luke shrugged, "Busy. You?"

"Well, y'know, not so much today. Started off that way, but I ended up just hangin' around."

"Happens."

"Does around you." Han said wryly.

Luke half-smiled and looked away, almost as if embarrassed. "You're flying A-Wings now?"

Han stifled a smile at the kid's hasty change of subject; still got flustered when people complimented him then. "Yeah – I know, I know; bone-rattling suicide sleds."

"Fast though."

Han shrugged, already settling, lulled into a sense of casual comfort by Luke's familiar traits and by the kind of talk that any two pilots anywhere would have. "I'd fly the Falcon if they'd let me."

Luke let out a slight laugh, "A fighter-wing of YT freighters – that I'd like to see."

"Hey, ain't nothin' wrong with YT freighters. I've taken Leia in under many's a blockade with the old bird." Han pursed his lips, aware that his sense of familiarity had loosened his tongue, "Probably shouldn't have told you that, should I?"

Luke glanced down, uncomfortable, a split-second too much silence straining the moment. "You think I'd hurt Leia?"

"At what point was putting her neck in the noose by tricking her into meeting the ruler of the Empire on Devaron considered completely safe?"

Luke shrugged, "We all take risks for what we believe in."

"Yeah but most of us take them knowingly." Han said, a touch of reproach in his voice.

Luke took it without offence. "Leia knew she was taking a risk in meeting any Imperial informer. She gained more from me than she ever could have gained from any fleet officer – if she chooses to take it."

Han glanced away. "Leia's figuring you won't want to speak again, because of… this."

"The way I'm not speaking to you now?"

"I'll point that out to her – as soon as I get back."

The kid didn't miss his meaning, "I'd never try to hold you here Han– you're too much trouble."

"An art I've taken years to perfect." All the same, Han felt the tightness in his chest ease just slightly - then felt a pang of guilt that, considering their past meetings, he'd believed for even a second that the kid might do so.

They both smiled momentarily, the silence hanging a fraction too long.

"So really, how's things?" He had to ask – because despite Luke's carefully-presented veneer of calm, casual confidence, he still had that unsettling aura of wired restlessness about him, that insular distraction.

"Busy." Luke repeated – but the tone in his voice had changed, and there was a weight to the word this time which spoke volumes.

Han glanced away, looking down the massive endless stretch of the Patriot's apex to the dotted glints of the Rebel fighters beyond, uncertain how to voice his concern. Whatever he'd thought to even try was left unspoken as the kid added quickly, his brusque voice rejecting any hint of sympathy before it was offered, "Fortunately, for those few minutes a day I get to myself, I can rely on you to fill them."

Han shrugged, taking the hint, "You could'a just not come." he said lightly.

"You could have just _not_ tried to blow up my shipyard." Luke replied in kind.

"What, like you'd miss one."

"Not really the point."

Han looked again to the dotted glints that were the Rebel fighters. "You know, I think this has got to be the first time ever that we've met, where you didn't win hands down."

"Don't get too excited." The kid said wryly, clearly not sharing Han's opinion of the outcome, "The game's not over yet. I am mildly curious as to what you were actually doing though."

"I thought we never discussed work."

"I don't remember saying that."

"You said a friendship could lay outside of the actions we have to take."

Luke shrugged good-humouredly, "I say a lot of strange things."

"Made perfect sense to me."

"Well then you're one of the few." There was a wry irony to his voice; a sense of someone under siege, though Han knew if he tried to pursue it he'd be shot down. Instead he turned to look at the distant battlefield, the fighters little more than fragmented diffractions at this distance, the scene strangely serene. Two tugs from the shipyards were gliding silently towards the dead, black bulk if the Imperial Interdictor, their bright running lights catching Han's eye.

"Must be getting pretty cold out there." He said, thinking of his fellow pilots.

Luke stared out again at the distant specks, "Yes… "

Han glanced to Luke, uncertain, "So what are you planning to do with them?

The kid half-shrugged, his demeanor switching swiftly to something far more professional and detached, "As I said, it all depends on you."

"Go on?" Why did he have a bad feeling about this?

"There's a comlink on my desk. You need to speak to your superiors-"

Han grinned, "Seriously, you think I'm gonna connect one of your comlinks to an Alliance frequency?"

The kid gave one of those tell-tale little shrugs, "Not at all; we've already connected you. Tell them that you're speaking from the Patriot and tell them what happened. Tell them how many of their ships are dead in space… then tell them that I will personally guarantee them safe passage to and from the battleground to retrieve their men. The Patriot will pull back to a distance of three thousand clicks to witness this and to ensure that no further damage is inflicted on the Shipyards, but they have my word that we will not open fire unless provoked."

Han just stood for a long moment, staring, but the kid's face remained absolutely neutral, whatever was going on behind that mask completely hidden. "…. You're serious, aren't you?"

"They won't be allowed to salvage the frigate," Luke continued, all business, "But the one-man fighters may be taken into whatever transport they send."

"What if they won't come?"

Luke shrugged, voice neutral, "Then all their men die. By their own hand, not mine."

Han shook his head, "They won't do it."

"Convince them."

Now Han was growing wary too, "You're making them to put more ships under the Patriot's guns."

"I'm not making them to do anything. I'm offering them an opportunity."

"You're backing them into a corner. If they don't come and those pilots out there die then they're to blame – and I'm sure you'll make that known, won't you?"

"I've given them my guarantee – why would they not come?"

Han didn't miss Luke's avoidance of the question. "Why are you doing this – just tell me why? The truth."

Luke seemed to pause a second, considering, then he glanced down, voice quieter, less guarded, "You know what I said to Leia; this has to end. All of it. This is the Patriot, the Imperial flagship, and the Emperor is onboard. Everything this ship does is a public statement of Imperial intent… and we are standing down to allow you to retrieve your injured from battle. We are making an official, formal concession, the first we've ever made to the Alliance. Simply be doing it, we're acknowledging your existence."

Spoken in those terms, Han suddenly understood the relevance of what Luke was doing – and the risks. "That's a big gamble."

"I'll deal with the repercussions, they're not your concern." Luke shook his head as he walked around the far side of the polished desk, pressing the inset comlink, "Com, this is the Commander. Order Helm to take us back to a distance of three thousand clicks and hold there. And open a link on channel zero-one-zero."

"Yes Sir. Scramble the channel?"

"Yes. Use an active Rebel code."

There was a brief click as the com disconnected to hold, in which time Han studied Luke closely, mind racing at the knowledge that the kid had such information, then a second pip reconnected the line, and Luke took a half-step back in anticipation. Han looked to the comlink set into flawlessly-polished desk, Luke's distorted image mirrored in the deeply reflective finish, his eyes steady on Han. It occurred to him only now that he was putting his own neck on the line too - but then, Luke had already done that, once in bringing him here, again in his words in the hangar, again in asking Han to pass on the message; would Madine and his cronies seriously belive him that the Empire already had this frequency and this scramble code?

He hesitated just slightly. "You know if she accepts this, Leia's taking the same gamble?"

"Yes." Luke said simply.

Han sighed, searching Luke's eyes for some reassurance, "Is she doing the right thing, if she does?"

Luke held his eye for long seconds without speaking.

"If I persuade her to... am I?"

Still Luke said nothing, but then Han hadn't really expected him to; whether he was lying or not, the only answer he could've given was yes, and in every talk they'd had, the kid had shown time and again that the wouldn't be made to validate his sincerity. Han glanced back to the comlink. "So this is a direct com – to Home-One."

"Yes."

Han lifted the comlink mic to his mouth as if he thought it might reach out and bite him, then depressed the connection, "This is Wing Commander Solo, who am I speaking to?"

There were a few seconds of silence, then, "Commander Solo? Sir, this is Ensign Newir Lestin. Can you give me your co-ordinates sir, we've lost contact with the task-force."

Lestin, Lestin… Han knew the name, and was running through his memories trying to pull out a face… Lestin! Yeah, the short Twi'lek, kinda bluey-green. "We're right where we were, Ensign. We just ran out of juice."

"…Sir?" the young voice said, uncertain. "Sir, we've had a partial communication from General Madine. He confirmed that all the lugs are clear but there's no further communi…"

"Just shut up and listen; don't say anything. I've been taken onboard the SSD Patriot. I'm speaking to you right now on a line they supplied. You need to contact Chief Organa and get her on this line."

The comlink went to standby and Han looked up. For a second he stared, uncertain what exactly had changed in the kid's stance. Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant, his voice coolly casual. "Madine was here?"

"Yeah and you know what? The kinda trouble he's been stirring up in the last twelve months, if you'd've commed me ten minutes earlier, I'd have told you which ship he was in."

"Madine was here, in a ship which cleared the battlefield…" For a second Luke's words made Han wonder whether mention of Madine had caused that subtle change, then he realized that Luke was barely listening as he continued, mind clearly racing to connect the dots on the scant information he'd been accidentally supplied. "Which means that he wasn't in the frigate because the frigate is still here and Madine isn't. Which means that the frigate wasn't the main ship of your little task-force… because whatever he came for, Madine wouldn't have left unless he was taking it with him. Whatever his mission was, the main objective was accomplished." Those bright eyes came up to Han with a new intensity, "You said that yourself Han – you said I hadn't won this one. What's a lug, Han? Madine made it out on the lug, didn't he? Lug's clearly a coded ID for something – what?"

Han straightened, freshly cautious, deeply aware of the change in the kid's voice, in his stance, in the pattern of his speech. Still, he tried to brush it aside. "Hey, I just do as I'm told. We grunts don't get the details – especially if Madine's runnin' the show. We don't have 'em, we can't pass 'em on." It was a gamble, he knew; if Luke chose to read his mind… but he wouldn't. Not to Han. And it would do him no good anyway; Han knew only that his mission was to protect the lugs were, not what their objective was.

Luke glanced aside, "Lug… lug nut. Lugg Space Platform, lug-set array…" The kid frowned, looking for connections, thinking aloud, "Lug… carry; move… haul."

Han kept his face straight, ordered himself not to think, not to listen, not to react. What little he knew wasn't enough to provide the whole picture, but he sure wasn't about to hand out any further clues.

Then again, the kid seemed to be doing fine without them, already looking back to him, tensing with each word, "Lug; haul, move, transport."

He was backing up again to that wide polished desk, flicking on the internal comlink. "Ops, this is the Commander."

"Sir?"

"Do you have a status on the three civilian freighters I told you to detain?"

There was a short pause, and when the man came back on the line, Han could practically hear him blanche, "Sir, the freighters are no longer here. They must have remained close to the Shipyard at our tail and the DEMP charge was concentrated forward."

Luke lifted his head – and just as he had on the crippled Destroyer when Han had gone after Mothma and met Luke, Han saw the other side of that cool, insular calm come to the fore; the edge that was held in check beneath those polished shields. His eyes hardened as his jaw tightened, his stillness more threatening than any outburst could be. "You let them get away?"

"Sir, they were ordered to heave to, but…"

Luke's hand, on the edge of the desk, tightened until his knuckles whitened. "Was the order to hold them passed on to Tactical?"

"I'm… not sure at this.."

"Not sure? It was your responsibility to pass the order."

"Sir, I.. co…." The unseen man stuttered his words over the com, seeming to gasp, winded.

Han frowned, eyes going to Luke, who remained stock still, jaw tight, pale eyes locked on the desk before him without seeing. A commotion sounded over the comlink, other voices being picked up over the com as they neared, the occasional word crystal clear; _".. bleeding!" "..coughing blood.."_, and suddenly a woman's voice came on over the choking gurgle of the unknown man, "Luke, is this you? Luke?"

Luke remained wrapped in that kinetic stillness, every muscle taught… the com sounded again, the woman almost shouting, _"Luke?!"_

He straightened, whirling about to look directly at Han, the sounds of gasping coming over the comlink as the unknown officer was suddenly able to draw breath again. Han heard no more as Luke flicked off the com, accusing eyes turning to him, "What were they doing?"

Han stared for long seconds, unable to believe the lightning fast change in the kid's temper. Against the dark shadows about his eyes, they seemed unnaturally bright now, glowing almost.

"Han, don't mess with me. What were the freighters doing?"

Han shook his head, "What the hell is wrong with you?! That was you, wasn't it? That was you who..."

"I'll ask you one last time – what were the freighters carrying?"

Han took a breath to shout – and for a fraction of an instant he felt the pressure on the inside of his head burning in pinpoint pain as if there were tiny explosions busting beneath the surface, a burst of adrenaline burning the back of his throat as he flinched – then it was gone completely within the space of a single heartbeat and Luke backstepped, forcing himself to back down as his brow knitted into a deep frown of realization, an exercise in willpower over temper.

"Don't answer," Luke said quickly, voice hoarse. "Don't answer that. I didn't.." He broke off, shaking his head in self-censure as he walked round the wide desk to sit, resting his head in one hand to cover his face without looking up, fingers pressed against his temples. The pip of the external comlink seemed loud in the tense silence. When Luke made no move to answer, Han eventually reached forward himself, flicking the channel open. "Solo."

"Han?" Leia's voice was filled with concern, "Han, are you okay?"

"..... I'm fine, just fine."

The edge of fear didn't go from her voice, "The Ensign said…" she didn't finish, as if by not speaking it aloud, she could render it untrue.

"I'm onboard the Patriot… with Luke." Leia didn't speak, and Han launched into the whole story; the DEMPs, the crippled task-force, the unprecedented offer Luke had made to let them retrieve their people, everything.

And through it all Luke remained silent, head down, lost in his own thoughts, visibly unsettled. Occasionally he shook his head again just slightly, all confidence gone, that insular focus which kept him so removed from everyone around him slipping, and Han just watched as he spoke to Leia, wondering if the kid knew how vulnerable he looked right now.

Vaguely, he became aware of Leia's voice again; "So you're onboard the Patriot now, Commander Solo?"

"That's right."

"And the Emperor is in the room with you?" Han could hear the tight formality in her voice; there must be others must be in the room with her, listening. That was probably why she hadn't once spoken to Luke... probably.

"I'm lookin' at him right now." He wondered in that moment if it stung the kid, that Leia wouldn't even acknowledge him.

Luke raised his head to look at Han with haunted eyes as Leia hesitated only a fraction of a second.

"In your informed opinion Commander Solo, bearing in mind the risks… do you believe we can trust the Emperor in this?"

Han looked into Luke's eyes, but the kid glanced immediately away, hand to his dropped head again....... but really, it wasn't a difficult decision, even now. "…… Yeah. Yeah, I think you can trust him."

Luke rose at this, turning to walk quickly and stand in silence before the wide viewport, arms wrapped about himself, obviously deeply disturbed. Han watched him remain like that for the length of the rest of his conversation with Leia, not moving even when he signed off. The silence hung for long seconds, the kid seeming unaware.

"They've agreed." Han said simply, not even sure whether Luke had registered the fact, so agitated was he. "There're three frigates close enough to make the retrieval. They'll be here shortly."

Luke simply nodded without turning as if unable to meet Han's eye, seeming now the polar opposite of that calm, confident man who'd walked into the docking bay, and Han had no idea what to say to diffuse this.

"Listen, I've taken more than one swing at a friend before now, not meaning any…"

"I could have killed you." his voice was quiet and weary and wired.

"But you didn't." The kid didn't turn, so Han tried again, "So you made a mistake, it happens. You learn, you move on."

Luke finally turned, "Would you be saying this if it had been Leia?"

Han stopped dead, and Luke turned away again, eyes to the distance as the massive Destroyer slowly turned, maneuvering ponderously back.

"You should go." Luke said.

Han hesitated, torn now between his worry for Leia's safety and Luke's sanity - because the tone in the kid's voice sounded disturbingly like he was voicing a genuine fear. The door behind him opened of its own accord and after a moment Wez Reece entered, effectively ending the conversation, his tone as unyieldingly polite as ever. "This way please, Commander Solo."

Han held still, eyes on Luke, looking for some way to...

"You should go." Luke repeated, voice no more than a whisper.

.

.


	17. Chapter 17

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.

Luke stood alone on the bridge of the Patriot watching the three unknown Rebel craft working to extricate their people. Han had gone, returned to his A-Wing when the Rebel frigate first arrived, preferring with his usual stubbornness to be cast adrift and wait his turn rather than be returned to the Rebel frigate in an Imperial shuttle. Luke couldn't say he blamed him; he would have done the same.

Two of the three Rebel frigates were turned towards the Patriot as the third continued its rescue. A pointless gesture to have the two ships there for protection, Luke reflected distantly, since he'd already proved their vulnerability with their task-force. But he could understand their nervousness. Yet they'd still come. Had to come – which was why he had done it of course. He'd made the Rebel Alliance publicly deal with him– with the Empire. Coerced Leia into relying on his word alone to get her people out.

So in a way he'd gained everything he needed from the encounter; he'd forced the Alliance to deal with him and forced Leia to place trust in him, however reluctantly… but there'd been a price. He hadn't anticipated Han's being here – or his own reaction when he'd realized Madine had also been here, however briefly. When he'd realized their mission was a success.

It was easy for Han to dismiss Luke's momentary lapse; he didn't know how close Luke had come, how easy it would have been for Luke to unleash his anger, how quickly he could have killed, how cleanly… or how brutally, how sickeningly. Probably didn't know how close all those pilots out there had come either. Because as sure as Han was that Luke wouldn't have injured him, he'd been equally sure that Luke wouldn't have let the Rebel pilots die either.

Far more so than Luke himself was.

But the real cost of this exercise, the repercussions of both his own actions in allowing their retrieval, and the Rebels' success in their unknown mission, had yet to be felt and dealt with, Luke knew.

Mara catwalked up behind him, her russet hair a vivid reflection in the curve of the bridge viewport. Luke remained silent; there was nothing he could say which would put her mind at rest. She glanced down, considering, as he stared in insular silence into the endless darkness, then her eyes followed his, staring out at the bright specks of the distant ships involved in the recovery. She remained silent for long seconds, and when she finally spoke her voice was quiet, for him alone. "Did you know there was going to be a raid?"

"Yes." Luke replied simply.

"Do you think Reece knew?" It was of greater importance than it first seemed, Luke knew. Because if Reece too had known, then that meant that the information he was handing over was probably to the Rebellion.

Luke shrugged, relieved that Mara had understood his choice to withhold information. "He seemed as surprised as the rest of you were – and I was watching him closely. But that could simply mean that he's handing over information without knowing how it's being utilized. But no, I got the information of the raid from Argot, not from Reece's head, if that's what you're asking."

Mara hesitated, "Can't you read who he's handing it over to?" She knew of course that Reece was hard to read, but maybe…

Luke shook his head, "No, not unless he makes a slip, and he's not in the habit of doing that. I could sit him in a chair, tell him that I know he's the mole and ask him repeatedly, naming every institution he could possibly be in contact with, and when I named the right one I'd know, whether he tried to cover it up or not. But that's not a route I want to take – not yet. I'd rather use him to pass false information back and see where it resurfaces first."

Mara exhaled briefly, and Luke knew she was reigning in her annoyance, "You know you're taking an unreasonable risk, don't you?"

He glanced back, "That's what I have you for, Red. You get me out of the scrapes."

"I'd rather stop you getting into them." Mara retorted. When Luke didn't speak, she sighed, "Why Solo – why did it have to be Solo you brought onboard?" She'd said nothing in the docking bay of course, but at the time, Mara had been fuming; it was bad enough that Solo actually had the gall not only to com the Patriot, but to ask for Luke. Bad enough that Luke had chosen to acknowledge his presence onboard the Patriot in the face of a Rebel task-force, however small. For Luke to have then brought Solo's fighter brought onboard so that he could have a second, undisclosed talk with him was infinitely worse, as Luke's present disposition proved.

Given the option and Luke's absence, Mara would have used Solo's disclosure of his own attendance today to blow his fighter out of the sky without even a moment's hesitation. Solo was trouble; he always had been. He had that air about him in the first place, and when you put him together with Luke, it increased tenfold. She hadn't forgotten that Luke had risked his neck to get the Corellian out of the Imperial Palace six years ago, and Luke's claim that Solo had afforded Palpatine too much of a hold over him had rung a little too perfectly plausible for Mara's liking. So he'd remained a complication in Luke's already-complicated life, one whom Luke already made too many allowances for- and she didn't like to think the Corellian still had that kind of influence on Luke.

Luke didn't turn now at Mara's obvious frustration, his voice quiet and even, "Because I knew Leia Organa would listen to him, and I knew he'd listen to me. Otherwise there's no way she would have put more Rebel ships at risk. No way I could have made her do that."

Mara shook her head, "I don't like it when everything's perfectly logical, not with you. It makes me nervous."

Luke half-turned, amused at her admission, his mood lightening just a fragment as his soft Rim-World accent came to the fore. "Any time you want me to devolve into total recklessness just let me know. I'm sure I can come up with something spectacularly less rational than letting a spy keep operating right under my nose and allowing the Rebels to retrieve their trapped forces to throw at me another day. This is an average week for me, Red."

"Don't even joke about it." Mara shook her head ruefully, turning back to the distant recovery operation. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I." Luke murmured quietly in reply, his humour dampening slightly.

Mara turned to glance at the bridge crew in the pits, keeping her voice low. "Lieutenant Commander Arin is recovering in sick bay."

Luke looked away immediately, his sense cooling several degrees.

"Lieutenant Commander Arin is a very lucky man." He said, no trace of regret in his now-distant voice, that flawless Coruscanti accent reinstated. "He's to be relieved of front-line duty and demoted on a charge of incompetence. He can retain his commission but is to be transferred to a non-active fleet position. Put him planetside – somewhere he can't do any more damage."

Mara couldn't disagree with him; Arin had blundered spectacularly. If he couldn't keep his cool in the heat of a battle then he didn't deserve to serve on a Destroyer, particularly not this one. Still, "He..."

"He changed the course of a battle and may have rendered everything I've undertaken today worthless. Now I'm forced to spend hours of my own and my Intel unit's valuable time trying to unravel the Rebellion's objectives and gains, and more importantly the repercussions of this combat. He's lucky my father isn't here."

In insular moments like this, when he seemed to purposely place himself beyond any emotions, Luke remained as much an enigma to Mara as he'd always been. "Sometimes I look at you and I see Palpatine so clearly."

He turned, and she had expected some passion, some cutting retort. But instead he simply looked to her with no trace of emotion before turning away, eyes the pale, cold blue of ice. For a moment she thought he was watching the distant rescue taking place at his mercy, but then realized that he was staring at his own reflection in the thick viewport, eyes half-closed in consideration, voice less than a murmur. "Sometimes… so do I."

.

.

The large, functional boardroom adjacent to the Admiral's ready-room to the rear of the Patriot's imposing bridge fielded the post-battle analysis by the inner elite of the new Empire, everyone looking for motives – as much for the Emperor's reaction as the Rebel's attack. Not that anyone would be so impolitic as to say so out loud. The new Emperor was widely known as a reasonable, rational man, but he still had a spark of his predecessor in him, and in the right frame of mind, it could easily ignite.

Now, everyone was looking to the small table-top holo of the general manager of the Fondor Shipyards, trying to decipher the facts.

"So the sections which bore the brunt of the main Rebel attack weren't military?" Admiral Joss asked, frowning.

The sprawling Fondor Shipyards, whilst mostly taken over by the military early in Palpatine's reign, still had many sections that catered to the civilian market.

"No sir." The general manager confirmed, looking harassed even in this small holo. "The last section to be attacked was, but it was an empty dock. We were fortunate that their frigate was intercepted so quickly."

Captain Kavanagh turned to Luke, "The Hurricane and the Sentry were both outside of their normal duty roster when the battle commenced, so they were close enough to respond."

Not really that surprising, Luke knew; he'd taken care to place them within response distance days ago. Normally it would have been something he would inform Reece of and leave the details to him, but this time he'd been forced to make the changes himself and cover his involvement, delaying the schedules of the two Destroyers just enough to keep them close by.

"And they attacked no other area?" Luke asked now, baffled.

"The Hurricane was the first on the scene, and it forced the Rebel frigate to withdraw, otherwise they would almost definitely have continued their bombardment of the shipyards." Captain Kavanagh said.

"So they were interrupted." Luke clarified, reaching forward to cut the audio link with the shipyards.

"Yes sir."

"Yet they still completed their mission."

Mara's eyes narrowed, "We have only Solo's word for that."

Luke shook his head, "No, the Rebel onboard Home-One confirmed that the lugs were clear; whatever they needed, they got."

They'd all listened to the com recording between Solo and Home-One repeatedly, everyone trying to decipher the facts, a copy already sent to Arco, the Intel Chief, to see what he could pull from it.

"They went there to remove something from the Shipyard." Luke reiterated. "Everything else was to cover their tracks."

"It would suit Madine's psyche profile." Clem acknowledged, "He would try to confuse the facts as much as possible to hide the motive."

"Why not just try to smuggle it out – or steal it?" Nathan asked.

Luke shook his head, "He's a soldier; he fights. This is how he deals with a problem."

"He smuggled the duplicate DEMPs out at Col Din." Nathan reminded.

"Madine wasn't in charge of that operation," Luke corrected, "Mothma was."

"So Organa should have been in charge of this one."

"But she wasn't." Luke said with certainty, "If she had been, Solo would have known more. Madine was working on his own."

"But with her permission."

"Yes." Luke confirmed; Han had also said Leia had been worried that Luke wouldn't wish to continue their meetings after this, so she must have been aware that a mission was about to take place. "But Madine was interrupted today. Whatever he wanted, he'd already taken, then begun to destroy the evidence, including all the security feeds, which came down minutes before the attack started. Then he started to cause general mayhem to cover up his objective. " He looked back to the holo, reconnecting the audio, "The destroyed civilian sections; what exactly did they hold?"

The general manager looked down to his autoreader, "They were mostly storage. Only one of the bays actually had any work being done in it, Sir."

"Work on what?"

"Deep space mining ships. Just upgrades to existing four-man miners. All the ships are damaged but accounted for."

"You say the other bays were storage – for what?" Clem asked, searching for clues.

"It would have to be small enough to load in minutes," Luke added, "And mobile enough to me moved by hand or with light-load droids."

The manager scanned down the list, a copy of which was on the autoreader in front of Luke. "Of what's unaccountable for – and we haven't been able to gain access to the damaged areas yet – our best guess here is that they've removed a quantity of TSC. We store it in its basic compound here, so–"

"Wait, TSC?" Mara asked.

"Tensile strength composite. It's an additive used in building work and in alloys for shielding heavy, deep-space vessels for more rigorous work such as asteroid mining and demolition. It's used when a great deal of strength is required for physical rather than power-based shielding. But it has to be mixed with an aggregate. It used to be used extensively in the fabrication of high-end military vessel manufacture due to its weight to strength ratio, but it's been replaced in the last five years, though it's still occasionally used as an alloy in deep-space vessels. What we had here was old stock."

Hallin was frowning, "So they stole an obsolete additive?"

Luke was shaking his head, "Is there anything else, anything unaccounted for?"

"Nothing which would be easily removable Excellency."

"You're sure? Nothing could have been taken from another part of the shipyard and placed in those bays ready for collection?"

"We've been checking what security footage we have, Sir, for the week leading up to the attack. And of course you've been provided with copies of the same."

Everyone fell to silence, until Nathan, with his usual compulsive need to understand everything around him, asked, "So, the composite…?"

"It increases the yield strength in brittle alloys." The manager said patiently, "It was used a great deal in meta-fibers and aramid derivatives, but it's been all but replaced by pro-para-aramids in the last few years, which are a fraction of the price."

"Could it be needed for the repair of an existing warship?" Nathan asked.

The manager shook his head, "Conceivably, though I can't think of an instance where pro-para-aramids couldn't be substituted at a fraction of the cost."

"Other uses?" Luke prompted.

The manager hesitated, "Very little save heavy military. It has been used in specialist construction occasionally; high-stress units where weight wasn't an issue but structural integrity was paramount, such as military front-line bunkers. It can form a high-density cast composite which is near bomb-proof, but the cost would be enormous."

"Physical shielding…" Luke frowned; why in the galaxy would they want that? No matter how good it was, at the end of the day there was no base which could withstand sustained aerial bombardment and even if it could, for the Rebels to create one and consider using it would be ridiculous; they'd be trapping themselves in a stationary fortress against a larger enemy; they'd effectively have made their own tomb. They maintained what effectiveness they had through their mobility – to give that up was suicide. "Other uses?"

"Absolutely none Sir. It's a tensile additive and nothing more, and that outdated."

"How moveable is it in its present form?"

"Very, Excellency. One of its attributes is its weight to strength ratio. Until it's mixed with an aggregate, a man could easily lift two barrels. But as I say, it's not really used anymore; it's been replaced by materials better suited to aerospace use."

"How much is missing – or more importantly, how much could it be reconstituted into?

"It would depend on its use, but really very little. If it were being recombined as physical shear-strength in hull plating, not nearly enough to plate the hull of a single frigate."

"How many fighters – snub-nose?"

"It couldn't be used in inter-atmospheric craft Sir; its weight would prohibit it, and even in extra-atmospheric fighters the thickness that the hull plates would have to be cast to would again prohibit its use."

Luke covered his eyes as he tried to think, out of options. "Vehicles; land-based?"

"No Excellency, not anymore. The new pro-para…"

"Right. I get it."

It was Nathan who thought to ask the obvious, "Do you actually have any of this pro-para-whatever on the station?"

Everyone's eyes lifted in hope.

"Yes, a much larger amount. As I said, the TSC was remaining old stock."

"And it couldn't be mistaken for the newer product?" Luke asked.

"Presuming one could read the barrel labels, no Sir."

Nathan looked meaningfully at Luke over the hologram, "Presuming one knew the difference."

Luke sighed, "And nothing else is missing at this time?"

"Nothing Excellency."

"Thank-you. Keep us updated." Luke said distractedly, deactivating the hololink and staring at the three small ships beyond the viewscreen. "What the hell are you doing now, Leia?" he murmured quietly.

"Why don't we ask them?" It was Reece who had issued the quiet words. Luke turned to look at him, and he leaned forward. "There are three Rebel craft out there, plus any number of pilots from the original mission. We could detain any or all of them and find out what's going on."

"No-one knows, Reece – no-one who's left at any rate. We lost that information when we lost the freighters."

"Can you guarantee that?"

"You seriously think they'd send anyone who has even an inkling of what this is about back here?"

Reece looked down, "Then perhaps we should have taken more detainees when the battle ended."

Luke sat back slowly, eyes remaining on Reece, and everyone there looked down slightly, the Emperor's body-language unmistakable.

"How many Rebels are out there?" Luke asked, voice clipped, "One hundred – a hundred fifty? I could have a dozen small battles like this every month and it wouldn't change anything. We can't and we won't fight them on these terms, it's pointless. We'll never take them apart from the outside, all we'll do is fuel the fire. Our actions today will do more than any short-lived reprisal – we're creating the cracks which will eventually break them to pieces, trust me."

"By giving them the opportunity to retrieve their soldiers?"

"By making Leia Organa deal with us. By making her be _seen_ to be doing so. Because you know as well as I do that everyone in her Council won't think the same as she did. They'll see this as a capitulation and they'll obstruct it. They'll argue. They'll split."

"Because of this?"

"No, but this is the start. Ten years from now you'll look back and say, 'This was the start and I was there – I saw the future instigated. I'm asking you to wait that long. I'm asking you to wait half that long… or not see it at all."

Reece sat back slightly, uncertain whether he'd been threatened with his own removal or simply the failure of Luke's strategy, and Luke turned immediately away, tempering the words he'd spoken to Reece by glancing down the long table to hold everyone in his shrewd gaze for brief seconds.

"If anyone here has doubts about this action then they should speak out now, because this won't be the last time it's employed. One dissident, carefully managed, can destabilize a regime." Luke resisted the urge to look to Reece as he said this, "One weakness can tear it apart. I don't want that that to happen around this table. I don't want there to be such divisions – but I do want to use them against my enemies. We can't fight the Rebellion with numbers – Palpatine tried it for two decades and got no-where. But we can disassemble them, we can nullify them. With the right tactics we can take them apart from within and render them publicly obsolete. What we cannot do is lose our nerve at the first hurdle." He'd subtly changed his wording from _I _to_ we _as he spoke, bringing everyone into the strategy, making it theirs. Only Reece, his knowing eyes remaining on Luke, would have spotted the ploy, he knew.

"Do we need to keep our actions today quiet," Captain Kavanagh asked, voicing the tacit acceptance of all about the table in moving the discussion on. "Begin procedures to contain it?

Luke didn't let his muscles relax even a fraction; didn't allow his relief at their unspoken support to show. _"No flaws_,_"_ his Master had ground into him; _"If you allow yourself a vulnerability, people will use it against you. S__how no doubt, no nerves, no misgivings."_

"No." Luke turned to smile at Kavanagh, "We let this out. We're being so reasonable, don't you think?"

"Should we be seen to be?" Reece asked.

Luke nodded, "Let's steal a little wind from the Rebel's sails shall we? Let's be the voice of reason for once."

"What about the voice of authority?" Reece said.

Luke turned on him, chin lifting, eyes narrowed, tone inviting no discussion. Kavanagh, Clem and Joss were military men and comfortable following orders, even Mara was to a degree, though she'd challenge tenaciously if she disagreed. Hallin, ever the negotiator, would question if he saw fit – but he had the sense to hold his questions back for more private discussion. Reece however, a former Red Guard, respected and reacted to only one thing; command. "_This _is the voice of authority. You've been given an order and your duty is to fulfil it. This is not a discussion – it is a statement of how things will be."

Reece looked away and Luke sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, still wanting to give Reece that chance to pull back, aware that to those around the table who didn't have the full facts, he would be seen to be heavy-handed. Very much aware that he didn't want the trick he was using to split up Leia's Council to cause rifts in his own entourage. "You have an alternative?"

"Yes! Go after them in force. Send the whole fleet and wipe them out."

"Fine. Give me the co-ordinates and I will."

Reece turned away again in frustration.

"It won't work." Luke held a thin veneer of reason over his rising frustration. "It won't work because they spread themselves over a wide area to avoid it. They never have more than a fraction of their forces in one place – I know, I was with them. And every time you wipe out a single cell you just fire up more resistance."

"There'll always be resistance to any legitimate government."

"Yes, but let's make it marginal. Let's make it isolated."

"At the risk of losing order?"

"I'll never take that risk, you know that."

"I think you risk it already."

"I think we both do." Luke rose quickly, aware that this conversation was becoming too personal, touching too close to the truth. Everybody around him rose automatically, and he gestured for them to sit, shaking his head. "This is immaterial. The Rebels are here and I've given my word. I don't go back on it. When I meet with Organa again and I'll have this as a show of sincerity. It will need others, but this is a start. This moves us forward."

"To what?" Reece asked soberly.

"To my intention and my strategy." Luke countered, anger rising, aware that this was the only way to deal with Reece; through force of will. "And my intention is to stabilise and cement my Empire." Luke held Reece's eye, wanting to underline the dangers of any action against him, even by one as close as he. "And believe me, I'll use any method I see necessary to ensure that."

.

.

Reece walked quickly to catch up with Mara Jade as they walked down the main corridor away from the bridge, the meeting concluded. The Emperor's extreme actions today must no doubt have unsettled others as well as himself, and he needed to sound out opinion, particularly from Jade, who remained second in line to the throne before Nathan, though the fact wasn't well-known.

"Commander." He greeted, stepping alongside her as she glanced sideways at him, her green eyes narrowing. "Quite a day."

"Yes," she replied coolly, "But then I'm getting used to surprises now."

"Still," Wez glanced through the corridor's long viewport, to where the distant Rebel ships were finishing their retrieval, "I think this ranks special mention, even for the Emperor."

Mara tried again to outpace him, but Reece remained at her side, unshakable. His presence wasn't welcome, Mara still smarting from the knowledge that he was smuggling information from the Palace, frustrated that she'd been ordered by Luke not to broach the subject with Reece himself. Had it been up to her, Reece would have been arrested the day Luke had realized the truth... in fact, some part of her was musing what Luke would actually do if she turned and floored Reece right now. Instead she glanced sideways at him, a thought occurring; Luke had maintained that he wanted the facts before he made a move. Reece seemed in a talkative mood; now was the time to see what she could draw out of him. "You disagree?"

"I don't think it's a question of disagreeing or not. I think it's about how we're perceived over the galaxy at large. We need to be seen to maintain order." Reece was aware that he was stepping on eggshells here; Mara was completely loyal to Luke, and Reece had no intention of trying to challenge that, nor of revealing his deeper doubts to her. But he needed to begin to foster some kind of relationship with her – because if and when the Emperor was removed, the line of succession put Mara in power.

"That's ridiculous," Mara said tightly, "Luke will always maintain order in the Empire – that's why he's doing this."

"Still, I worry that he's placing trust in the wrong people." Wez glanced sidelong to Mara, "I understand that the Corellian was brought onboard." Mara's lips narrowed, but she didn't speak, so Wez tried again, sure this was a sore point. "I personally worry about these… encounters."

"I personally would like to see that damn Corellian disappear off the edge of the galaxy." Mara said tightly, "But he just keeps on showing up."

"I worry also that Solo's drawing the Emperor into these meetings with the Rebellion more than he realizes. If I were being honest with you, I'd like to see them stop. "Again Jade didn't speak, and Wez pushed on. "I think they're dangerous and they're unnecessary, as I'm sure you do. These people are extremists; by their very nature they can't be trusted. Particularly Solo, who comes here with claims of friendship whilst wearing a Rebel pilot's flightsuit."

"Yes," Mara couldn't help herself; "It's difficult to know who to trust."

"To be honest I was more than a little alarmed when the Emperor engineered a meeting with Leia Organa. I know you must have felt the same. It gave me some degree of reassurance that you were able to accompany him." Wez hesitated, "I do worry however, when you go into the field of combat with the Emperor, Commander Jade."

Mara turned, and Wez shrugged, "You're aware that if we followed standard protocol, the Emperor and the Heir shouldn't enter a hazardous situation together."

"Nothing's going to happen to Luke, not whilst I'm drawing breath." Mara said, her tone absolute.

"Of course." Wez assured, "But if something should, you realize that it…"

"Nothing's going to happen." Mara said with finality. "And anyway, the line of succession may well change when Kiria D'Arca…" She couldn't even bring herself to say it, but Reece was surprisingly accommodating, moving on immediately.

"I don't think so. The contract states categorically that D'Arca has no power and no rite of succession, and that contract has been ratified by them. She has no official claim to the throne, only the title of Empress."

Mara rolled her eyes, drawn into the conversation despite herself, "Well I'm sure she'll be working very hard to change that just as soon as the dust's settled."

"I think you may be surprised. The D'Arca's have been loyal since the formation of the Empire. They trade on their influence yes, but I think this is as ambitious as they get. Neither Palpatine nor Luke considered them a direct threat to the throne; I don't think either Sith would have allowed the D'Arca's the influence they enjoy, had they sensed any threat whatsoever."

It occurred to Mara for the first time to wonder whether Reece was handing information over to the D'Arca's. But what could they possibly offer him that Wez didn't already have? He could, she supposed, be backing a contender who had a more traditionalist view of the Empire and the role of Emperor; the D'Arca's were, as he'd just said, staunch Imperialists.

"Would you support a change in the line of succession to incorporate the D'Arca's?" Mara pushed.

"I haven't really thought about it."

"Oh come on – you always see every angle." Mara tempered her tone, aware that she was trying to encourage him to talk. "You're right, Luke wouldn't have allowed Kiria D'Arca close if he didn't believe her loyal, whatever the gains."

"Perhaps. Loyalty and leadership aren't necessarily the same thing though."

"She's tougher than you think – and more ambitious."

"But ambitious to hold rank or ambitious to hold total power? The Emperor thinks the former and I'm inclined to agree with him."

"I hope you're right. Because if they're looking for more, Luke will obliterate them without a trace. He doesn't leave enemies at his back – not ones with their political influence."

"I think they're well aware that they have a vested interest in maintaining the status-quo."

"I hope they remember that. We don't need anyone rocking the boat, least of all from within."

Reece didn't turn, eyes on the corridor ahead as they walked. "I hope that wasn't aimed at me."

"Why would it be?"

Reece shrugged, seeking to smooth the waters, "I think I'm sometimes viewed as the only objector to the more moderate stances the Emperor's taking, though the fact is I'd hate it to color our working relationship."

Mara stared ahead, fuming, taking a second to force her voice calm, "Why would you possibly be concerned, Wez? Luke would never mistake honest debate for duplicity– or the other way round. I would be more worried about people like Kiria D'Arca, if she seriously believes she can deceive him. Tolerant as he is on a day to day basis, he's not the man to cross, and I hope D'Arca doesn't have to find that out the hard way. Push him too far and you see the Sith." Mara slowed her pace, intending to enter the door to Ops, but couldn't resist launching a final warning, "Anyone thinking to cross him would do well to remember that."

.

Reece nodded a polite goodbye, walking on without looking back, considering the specifics of the conversation. Were they suspicious? Jade had made more than one veiled threat, but they seemed more aimed at the D'Arca's than himself, and that may well be her unease at finding her own position under threat rather than any greater cause. Which posed an interesting consideration, and with it new options. Because Jade was right; if Kiria D'Arca did gain in favour sufficiently to be acknowledged by the Emperor in the line of succession, then she may well be just as good a ruler as Jade had the potential to be – and therefore just as useful to Reece.

.

.

Nathan Hallin also had his thoughts on Luke's disposition at that moment, but for very different reasons. Remaining behind in the boardroom onboard the Patriot, he'd hoped to draw Luke into conversation and maybe lighten his mood, aware of the insular frame of mind which had gripped Luke and stayed with him since the Corellian's latest visit. It wasn't looking good though; Luke had spent the last few minutes since the others had left staring resolutely at the automemo in front of him, refusing to look up.

Still, Nathan prided himself on his doggedly patient streak – something he'd had a great deal of opportunities to practice recently – so he waited a good five more minutes before he finally drew a breath to speak– and the moment he did this Luke interrupted without looking up, playing his power games, however subconsciously, even here.

"Were there any casualties caused by the DEMP onboard the Interdictor?"

Nathan hesitated briefly, thrown by the question, "Um, as far as I'm aware there were two. Someone broke their wrist in a fall and someone broke four toes – don't ask me how. A few knocks and bruises; that's it."

"Do we have figures in from the two Destroyers yet?" He still didn't look up.

"No, not yet. I'm sure Ops will send them up to you when they come in."

"We lost eleven TIE pilots in the skirmish."

"Ah."

"Statistically that's high. I need to find out why."

"I'm sure Captain Kavanagh will have that report on your autoreader before the day's out."

Luke nodded once, then fell to silent study for long minutes, and again Nathan waited him out. Finally, his voice somewhere between exasperation and irritation, Luke put the autoreader down, resting his head in his hand as he looked to Nathan. "Go on."

"Excuse me?"

Luke glanced through his fingers, tone long-suffering. "Are you intending to say something, or are you just hanging around for want of somewhere better to go?"

Nathan half-smiled, "Can I be both?"

"You generally are." Luke returned to studying the automemo with a sideways look, though his expression had lightened.

"So," Nathan said, feeling the conversation had relaxed enough to broach the subject, "How was your Corellian friend?"

Luke scowled at the automemo, "Fine."

"Ah. Is that fine as in 'well', or fine as in 'stop bothering me and go away'?"

Luke glanced up, unable to resist the temptation to quote Nathan's words back at him, "Can it be both?"

"Very funny." Nathan deadpanned, "You know, Wez was less than pleased when he found out you'd gone wandering off with a member of the Rebellion and no security. I think he came down to your quarters and waited outside the door."

Something changed unexpectedly in Luke's tone and the set of his shoulders at that. "And how did he find out?"

Nathan frowned, "I didn't know it was a secret – not any more."

"It wasn't." Luke said, "Which is just as well."

Nathan nodded, understanding the unspoken message; "It's very difficult to know what you want passed on and what not. You may have mind-reading down to a tee, but the rest of us still have to struggle along with plain old spoken Basic."

Luke sighed, seeming unreasonably troubled as he rubbed again at the bridge of his nose. "Could we just assume that nothing's to be passed on to anyone without my say-so?"

Nathan didn't speak for a few seconds. "We could indeed. Do we need to?" Luke didn't speak further, and Nathan sighed. "Luke, everybody here isn't your enemy. The politics which exist in the outside galaxy don't come into this sphere of close supporters, you know that. There's no harm in letting your guard down a little, not here."

Luke rubbed at his brow, "Of course."

It was a dismissal of the subject, Nathan knew, nothing more. Hoping to draw Luke out further, he affected an injured air, "Besides, I'm perfectly capable of keeping a secret. I know, for instance, where you were when you disappeared off the radar last time and worried Clem and the Palace guards half to death trying to find you all night."

It wasn't at all uncommon for Luke to drop off the radar within the Palace, often for several hours at a time, and since no security protocols had been breached, no-one had been truly worried save the guards on duty, who would have to answer to Clem, Captain of the Guard.

Luke glanced up warily through the loose half-curls of his long fringe, and Nathan nodded knowingly, "You see, I was the one who tried Mara Jade's comlink. She seemed… surprisingly unconcerned– in fact she told me it was fine. One could almost believe she already knew where you were. I commed her again a short while later… her comlink had been deactivated. I didn't tell anybody that of course. But I did listen with interest to the little anecdote which was going round the Palace the next morning regarding the Emperor's unexpected visit to the glasshouse."

Luke sighed, running his fingers through unruly hair. "I went to tell her about Kiria and the D'Arca contract."

"I assumed as much." Nathan said, "How did it go?"

"You know, I'm not really sure…" Again Luke was silent for a long time, and Nathan let the moment hang, knowing there was more; that Luke was analysing not only what had happened, but whether to pass any part of it on to Nathan. Eventually Luke shrugged, arm dropping onto the polished table before him in head sinking to one side to rest on it in that casual self-effacing manner he'd always had, a rare glimpse beneath his shields. "But I have a feeling I'll be getting an automatic renewal on my club membership this year."

Nathan frowned for long moments, then remembered their conversation long ago, on the widely-subscribed club of men who made unfortunate choices in their relationships. At the time Nathan had claimed himself an honorary lifetime affiliate; it seemed Luke too felt he'd earned his entitlement over the interim years. "Will you still go ahead with the… D'Arca contract?"

Luke sighed, turning his face down, his voice muffled, "Yes. I need it, especially after today. If I don't get it, it could slow me down by years, and it has to be now to dovetail in with the Rebellion. That's moving forward quicker that I thought and I need to be ready." Han truly hadn't known the finer details of the mission he was on, Luke knew, which meant that Leia probably hadn't… which mean that certain members of the Rebel Council were now running their own independent little operations without feeling the need to fill their own Chief of Staff in.

"How long do you think you have?" Nathan asked.

Luke shrugged, "Not long enough. A year, maybe slightly more. I need the Royal Houses behind me before then."

Nathan settled slightly, "Well the wedd… contract is in a few months."

Luke sat up again, head in his hand. "The contract gets me in, it gets me fifty percent of the way. I need something to push that up… something to bring them round. I don't want to have to work against them continuously."

"I think you're missing an obvious point here." Nathan continued as Luke eyed him expectantly. "You're Emperor – you have the jurisdiction to _make them_ stand down."

"I can't and I won't continually curb and restrict them. I'm not Palpatine."

"I never said you were."

Luke glanced away, clearly uneasy at having been caught out in making his own thoughts known. His expression took on a thoughtful cast as he toyed with the heavy-set ring on his little finger, turning the pale blue cut stone full circle as he studied it, lost in thought.

Nathan watched for a short while as he continued rotating it, an unconscious meditative habit. "Mara's worried."

Luke looked up, stifling a smile, "You two have _got_ to get your stories straight. Mara was in here recently telling me that you were the worried one."

Nathan shrugged, "I am, but I thought you'd listen more if I said it was Mara."

"And of course I never listen to you."

"Oh you always listen - then you go away and do exactly as you'd intended anyway."

"Yes, but I feel bad about it."

Nathan laughed slightly, "You never feel anything of the sort. Reece is worried too."

"About?"

"That you're holding things back."

Luke considered that a moment, "And what are you worried about?"

Nathan shrugged, "About why you feel that you _need to_ hold things back."

Luke couldn't help but smile, "Ha, You're wasted as a medic Nathan – you should have been a diplomat." He suddenly seemed to become serious, "Would you consider a change of career?"

Nathan shrugged, not taking the remark seriously. "I don't even know what a diplomat does in the Empire."

"That's an advantage not a shortcoming." Luke said dryly.

Nathan half-smiled, "And anyway, why should I give up my enjoyable little job of following you around and nagging you?"

"How about because I never listen to you?"

"No, not biting." Nathan remained unimpressed, and Luke set his head to one side just slightly, his face suddenly very serious.

"Because it would be more help to me than you could possibly know. I need allies out there as well as detractors."

"Oh, that's a low blow."

Luke straightened, manner both brooding and mocking, "Well you know me. And of course it runs in the family."

The bridge comlink sounded and Nathan was grateful for the interruption, having no answer to the disparaging tone of Luke's voice.

Luke leaned forward to answer it, "Yes?"

"Sir, you've have a message come through on one of your secure lines."

"Put it through to my autoreader."

"Yes Sir. We don't have the necessary code to decode it."

"No, I have it here. Put it through."

The autoreader on Luke's desk made a brief pip, and Luke glanced to it, activating the decode algorithm. When he looked up, his voice and face were neutral, though when he spoke, Nathan knew that wouldn't be the truth of it.

"The message is from Leia Organa; she wants to meet again."

.

.

Nathan walked away reassured that Luke's larger plan – the gamble he clearly felt he'd made today – was paying off even if no-one else, friend or foe, knew quite what it was. Still, he couldn't help but reflect on another part of that conversation; on the carefully concealed character flaw which still crippled Luke; had done for so long now. It had been one of the first things Luke had asked when he woke from his duel with the Emperor.

At the same time that Luke was still undergoing surgery from that duel, others in his small trusted entourage had already begun working to stabilize the Empire. In the Palace, members of the 701st had begun to be drafted down and loyal Star Destroyers recalled to Coruscant. Reece had returned to the site of the duel, locking the Throne Room until they could repair, remove or destroy all evidence, Palpatine's body ordered to be secretly cremated.

When Luke had come round and they'd confirmed that Palpatine was dead, it was the first thing he'd uttered; "Did you get a sample of Palpatine's blood; his DNA?"

That same question had disturbed him for so long, Nathan knew. Of everything, every threat he'd made over the years, Palpatine had gotten through all of Luke's shields with that one – the declaration that he had 'created' Luke's father. That this fact gave Palpatine the right to claim some patrilineal link to Luke; the _bad blood_ that Luke believed had damned him. Even though Luke believed that it didn't necessarily mean a physical paternal connection, somehow he just couldn't get this out of his head.

Nathan still remembered that first discussion years ago, held in Luke's quarters after Luke had suffered yet another punishing incarceration at Palpatine's command for some perceived misdemeanor. Remembered distinctly sitting for long days afterward in patient silence, Luke still battered and bruised, that insular, impassive stillness which was so familiar now only just beginning to take hold. Remembered waiting for Luke to voice the doubts which took him almost a week to put into words... and when he did, the questions he had asked of Nathan, fired off in quick succession and without preamble, were deeply disquieting;

"_If, theoretically, a Force-sensitive were able to manipulate the Force and induce life… would the life which had been created have any real link to its creator? _

"_Would it carry its creator's characteristics as if they had been a physical donor, good and bad?_

"_Would the Force itself – the midichlorians which induced the cell-split – become the second donor?_

"_If so then would the aspect of the Force used to create that life be the aspect of the Force which to which that person would be inescapably attuned?"_

Nathan had said the only thing he could before the barrage of questions; that anything he said would at best be conjecture. Without proof, it was all little more than speculation and supposition. And Luke had nodded gravely, falling again to contemplative silence.

When he'd looked up, his voice had been resolute – and everything, every question, every doubt, every fear, had instantly become crystal clear; _"I need a sample of Palpatine's blood."_

The wily old man had, as ever, been maneuvering the facts and Luke's beliefs to fit his desires, Nathan knew, but it had stuck. It had weaseled its way in and taken hold, and with Luke's father typically less than forthcoming about his own veiled past Luke had been left, as ever, to seek his own answers.

So it had sat in the back of Luke's mind and festered all these years; that there really was some genuine connection there, some link between Luke and Palpatine, some unbroken line whose weight dragged down all who shared that _bad blood_. The unspoken fear that such a link could influence him now, his actions and his thoughts. And the more Luke believed it, the more he'd been tormented by it; the more that weakness which Palpatine had placed to exploited had gnawed at him.

And Nathan could only avoid and deflect, knowing he couldn't give Luke the cast-iron reassurance that he needed to shatter this particular conviction, seeking instead to reassure him that despite any claimed connection, Palpatine had no hold over Luke's decisions or his destiny. Could never quite reassure him that Force or no Force, Luke remained, at heart, a good person, despite the endless claims and assertions and accusations that Palpatine had planted for no other reason than to control him. If Nathan could have passed his own absolute belief off as fact he would have, in an instant. But whilst he had never once feared that Luke would search his thoughts, he also knew that an outright lie simply wasn't an option, not with Luke.

But it didn't matter – that was what Nathan could never make Luke understand; it didn't _matter_ the blood that ran in his veins, it didn't matter any claims of darkness or destiny. Luke was bound by none of it; his own father had told him that. Yet he feared it more than anything else. Feared becoming the very thing that he had loathed, feared it to the point that Nathan knew it crippled him at times. Was constantly afraid that the vindictive malice, the _darkness_ which Palpatine had carried also ran in his own blood. Perhaps he was right, because there were times when Luke could be as harsh and as volatile as either his father or Palpatine had ever been. The Ops officer in the Patriot's medi-bay, suffering from internal haemorrhaging and tissue damage so fine and so severe that he had hypoxia and haemoptysis, was proof of that.

But there were also times when Luke could be incredibly benevolent; the lives of the stranded Rebel pilots who could so easily have become target practice for the Patriot, or simply been left to suffocate in their small metal coffins, were proof of that. Yes, Luke had quoted a neat, logical reason for their freedom, but Nathan knew him long enough now to know that if he chose to, Luke could quote a neat, logical reason for pretty much anything.

And the more he quoted them, the more he asked himself, _'Do I believe this… or am I rationalizing my actions?' _Nathan could see it so easily in his friend's silence; in that insular, introvert distance, that restless distraction and brittle edge. The longer this fear raged through Luke the more it crippled him… and Nathan had nothing to counter it. Nothing to reassure, nothing to balance. It was that which he needed… and it was that which had been forfeit. Because now Luke was the last of his kind and the answers, manipulative as Luke always knew they always were, had been lost with Palpatine and his father.

Nathan glanced out now at the distant flash of power as the Rebel ships launched into lightspeed, believing themselves safe. Did they know the new Emperor so little?

Because the last time Luke had been genuinely provoked, he'd turned on his persecutor with a vengeance, permission to do so granted by the very manipulation that Palpatine had used to control his prodigy.

Because of Palpatine, Luke _believed_ himself dark; he believed himself beyond redemption… and so he was. And given this conviction and his incredible ability, he was the wrong man to cross. Leia Organa and her subversive Rebellion would do well to remember that.

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	18. Chapter 18

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**CHAPTER NINE**

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Like the Devaron Staging Post Leia had previously chosen, Hosk Station was old and tired and it's crowded inhabitants truly believed they had seen it all before, so seldom bothered watching anymore – which was probably just the way the Alliance liked it, Luke figured. A natural moon entirely covered by a vast Esseles-class Space Station, it had probably been a hive of activity as a low-gravity dock and transfer point at the height of the Old Republic, but as shipping patterns had changed, it had been left behind and become just another orbital station, staying alive on the strength of its massive repair bays.

Wearing civilian clothes, his lightsaber concealed, Luke made his way through the Human-climate sections, lacklustre and worn near the civilian spaceports but gaining quality and stature as one traveled to more affluent areas. Which he wasn't doing. Instead, Luke and his small, plain-clothes security contingent were moving inwards through the complex, twisted walkways of the industrial heart of Hosk Station, where massive hangars catered to starship repair, upgrading and construction. Gravity here was a little closer to the underlying moon's innate norm, which was lower than Galactic Standard, though not enough so that one would notice at this level.

Mara alone walked at his side, the others fanned casually out before and behind, everyone alert and attentive, looking for traps or pitfalls. Like himself, Mara's step was far looser and calmer, a professional agent blending seamlessly with the general populace despite her misgivings. And she'd had plenty, and given voice to every one of them in the staggered five-day journey from Fondor to Kalarba, up the Trade Spine and down the Corellian Run. Luke had listened patiently to them all and then, just as Nathan would have claimed, had gone on with his plans exactly as before. Sometimes the medic was just a little too perceptive for Luke's liking.

They pressed on, Luke aware of his own tight anticipation and growing silence as they neared the venue, his mindset shifting in mental preparation. As he'd said to her before, he relied on Mara to watch his back in moments like this, his focus internal. But he did rely on her… in this at least. And she knew it – and was all the more alert because of it. Particularly this time, because this time the Rebel leader was awaiting Luke, and not the other way round. Against MAra's advice, Luke had again allowed Leia to name the venue, a concession to her uncertainty. She'd likely have more security in place, knowing who she was meeting this time, but she'd still come. He could sense that already, her pale, wavering presence in the Force radiating subtly.

It wasn't until Luke's own security detail had fanned out at the last turn, only Luke and Mara continuing, that Luke sensed another familiar presence – and once again was taken completely off-guard by it.

Han Solo stood with an unknown Rebel at the door to the meeting place, and Luke stifled a momentary panic – though he kept walking smoothly forward.

Han turned, his face somber, resettling the weight of the gunbelt he wore. At the edge of Luke's vision, Mara's hand dropped smoothly to her own firearm in a mirror of Solo's, though she didn't draw it. Instead she stopped a few paces back from the door where Solo stood – where she felt she had a wider field of fire, Luke knew.

He stepped forward, mouth dry, still uneasy at the events of their last meeting. "Han."

Han nodded, expression somewhere between sociable and apprehensive, his mouth set at that habitual lopsided angle. "How y'doin?"

"Good. You?"

"I don't suppose it's gonna make any difference if I told you not to hurt her. That I'd come after you if you did." Han stated levelly.

No wasted pleasantries there then, though it was said without malice. Luke's calm, composed expression changed not a whit, "No, not really."

It was hardly a reassurance, but Han nodded slowly all the same. "You know, when she first told me that she was gonna speak with you again… I got real nervous. And I couldn't figure out why, couldn't figure out what was making me like that 'cos…" Han shrugged, as straight as ever, "Well, I trust you."

Luke glanced down uneasily, but if Han realized his guilt, he didn't comment on it as he continued, "I told Leia, and she said this wasn't about trust. Said this was something else entirely. She said my problem was that… that I never quite knew what you were gonna do. Each time I met you I never quite knew what you'd do this time – how you'd react. And then she said… the reason why I didn't know was because she didn't think you knew yourself."

"She's a very perceptive woman." Luke allowed at last without further elaboration, and Han nodded.

"Yeah she is. So if she thinks she's safe comin' for these talks, I'm gonna trust her on that. If she thinks she's safe, then she's safe." Han's eyes searched Luke's, "But I tell you, I'd sleep a whole lot better at night if you told me the same thing."

Luke considered that a long time, brow tightening to a frown. "I'd sleep a lot better if I knew it myself."

Without waiting or looking back to Han, he walked quickly forward, the door sliding back as he entered the meeting room.

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He took a single step forward – and broke pace just slightly, something about the small, bare room intensely evocative of the cell beneath the Palace to which Palpatine had condemned Luke so often in the early years; harsh, brutal punishment for any misstep. White walls, low ceiling, only a simple, stark desk and chairs - and cold, the stale air icy. He blinked twice, quickly, dispelling the memory and recovering his pace by force of will before looking to Leia who sat coolly in one of the two hardback chairs before the desk. The second chair opposite her own remained empty, and Luke stepped forward and sat without comment, resting his hands on the table before him; a subtle, subconscious message that nothing was being hidden.

Leia held her calm as she stared across the table to the Emperor, his dispassionate expression giving no hint of the thoughts beneath. But this time she was ready; this time, when Leia had sat in anticipation at the far side of the small table, she was prepared. There were no surprises; she knew who she was coming to meet , she knew what was on the agenda for both of them. She was braced and she was ready and she was primed to fight her corner. So when he sat opposite her she held her silence, waiting. Prepared to wait as long as was necessary.

He sat to casual attention, his air of composed confidence sharpened by a subtle edge, everything about him a contradiction wrapped about in a sense of refined, restless power. Maturity had etched fine lines about the eyes which took measure of her with the same close scrutiny that Leia brought to him, but aside from the scars which marred that youthful countenance, little else of his experiences in the interim years showed.

Was he all that they said? Could he kill her with a single blink of those mismatched ice-blue eyes, or was the vague, intuitive sense of immunity which wrapped about her like a shield true? He'd protected her in the past, surely it wasn't uncalculated?

Perhaps the sense of indemnity which had given her the confidence to come here today was simply her own wishful thinking, Leia reflected – or worse, his careful planning. Because now, here, sat beneath that predatory gaze, Leia was, intensely aware of her own vulnerability. And the tiniest fraction of an upturn in the corners of his scarred lips let her know that he saw this too; all of it. But physical vulnerability didn't hold sway on her thoughts, Leia maintained; she'd be stupid not to be nervous, given their positions. But she wouldn't be intimidated, not by him.

He watched her for long seconds more before suddenly, as if sensing that this first game was done, he leaned back slightly, the swiftness of the movement lighting a brief jolt of reaction from Leia's frayed nerves and tense muscles.

Those cool eyes rested on her again, tinged with amusement, "Shall we speak, or shall we spend the evening staring at each-other?"

Leia narrowed her eyes, aware that he was trying to take the moral high ground, accusing her however indirectly of childish games. _Moral high ground…_ "Why did you let the pilots go at Fondor?"

"Would you prefer I hadn't?"

Leia raised her chin, "If you meant them no harm, you could have simply not fired the DEMP… but you did. Then when you'd rendered them inoperative, you turned round and let them go. Why?"

He held silent for a long time, no intimidation in the action, just a pause in which he weighed his reply. "To bring you to this table."

"You let almost two hundred Rebels and a front-line frigate go just to get my attention?"

He tilted his head just slightly – and he seemed so young; blameless and guiltless and harmless… and completely, unquestionably dangerous. "It worked."

Leia stared for long seconds before she found her voice again. "Who are you?"

Luke hesitated, thrown by her question, a flicker of annoyance furrowing his brow and pulling at the heavy scar which traced across his face. "Is that important?"

"Yes! You want me to trust you, but I don't even know your name. All I know is that you lied to me. You lied to me about who you were, about why you were among us…"

"You still think I was the spy?"

"Were you?"

"You tell me. Did the information leak stop when I was gone?"

Leia pursed her lips momentarily, but before she could speak Luke again dismissed the matter, his tone indicating that the subject was clearly not up for debate, "It's immaterial anyway; I brought you here to speak about the future, not the past. I released your troops to demonstrate my sincerity."

"There is no future until I know the past – can't you see that?"

Luke sighed, shoulders sagging slightly as he closed his eyes, searching for patience already. "You tell me again and again that you don't trust me… yet you expect me to trust without condition. You expect me to trust my betrayer; the leader of the organization which just a few years ago tried to assassinate me – have you considered that?"

"I didn't…" Leia shook her head, refusing to be pulled in. "You're muddying the water."

"For you perhaps; to me these things are crystal clear."

"Fine, you want the truth? The truth is that they wanted to stop you becoming Emperor."

_They; not we._ Luke held quiet, and after a moment, Leia continued.

"They wanted to stop this exactly; you taking power."

"They wanted to stop _this_ exactly? And what would _this_ be – the Emperor here, now, trying at least to open a dialogue?"

Leia hesitated, chagrined. "They had no way to know that you would do this."

"They had no way to know that I wouldn't – that's my point." He shook his head suddenly, realizing that he was allowing himself to become caught up in the past.

Leia watched him closely; watched him rein all those old grudges back by force of will, and when he looked up again it was with a clear head and sharp eyes.

"I have a question for you," He paused, but more because he was searching for the right wording than any greater reason. "Itineraries, mine, recent…do you receive them?"

Leia frowned, looking for the catch, "…No."

"The schematics to the SD Sterling… do you have them?"

"I wish I did." She said honestly.

_Honestly_… Luke stared at Leia for long seconds, senses trained; she was speaking the truth. Wherever the leak was, it wasn't to the Rebellion.

"I have a question for you." Leia countered, "The attack on Fondor – did you know it was about to happen?"

_Yes_. "No." Luke gave nothing away as she studied his face, making no further explanation; validations were often the sign of lies, and Palpatine had long since made Luke a master of deception. Still, she stared for several seconds longer, hesitant, until, uncomfortable beneath that perceptive gaze, Luke moved the conversation on. "I made a gesture of goodwill at Fondor. I could so easily have destroyed the task-force."

"I'm aware of that."

"Or I could have simply left them to freeze or suffocate. But I allowed you uncontested access."

"I just said, I know that."

He leaned forward, and in that moment seemed lighthearted, teasing even, "Would it kill you to say thank you?"

Leia blinked, reeling at the change. "Is that why you did it?"

He tipped his head in a half-shrug, "You were on my mind, as I've said. This meeting; this moment."

"And what did you picture?"

"I pictured you understanding that this was a gesture of faith. A first step, made because one of us had to break the deadlock. Was I wrong?"

"I would have felt a whole lot better if you'd just said that you couldn't kill them."

"Yes, that would have sounded better, wouldn't it?" he admitted ruefully. "At least you know I tell you the truth."

"Are you proving that you tell the truth or simply admitting that you make mistakes?"

"I'm admitting that I stood down. I relented at Fondor for no other reason than that I want change . I've instigated the cease-fire… will you continue it?"

Leia hesitated, as unsure now as the very first moment she'd seen him on Devaron. He leaned forward, his voice almost a whisper, eyes so bright they seemed to glow. "Work with me."

"Why should I give you this recess – why do you want it?"

"Because I need the troops and the resources which are presently committed to keeping the Rebellion in check. I need them to enforce the changes to the constitution over more systems. I have enough to implement the changes in the Core and Colonies, but to even begin to enforce them in the Mid and Rim Regions I need every resource I hold, or nothing's going to change."

"So you're saying if the changes to the constitution don't work, it's because of us?"

"I'm saying that they can be brought into effect far faster. There are other, more sweeping changes I intend to bring in – changes to sentient rights and freedom of speech and local governorship, but without military power to back them up all they'll ever be is words."

"But I have no guarantee of any of that."

"I can give you all the guarantees you want, but we both know that they're meaningless."

"So you want me to risk everything on the off-chance that you might come through?"

"I want you to take a step back – and I'll do the same. If you stop all offensive action against Imperial targets, I'll stop any action against the Rebellion unless it's disturbing the peace or actively inciting insurrection. I'm not asking you to disband, I'm asking for a suspension of hostilities. Maybe talks to negotiate a cessation of actions for a set period, in which both parties will be held to certain pre-agreed targets. I'm asking for a chance to put my case forward to the Alliance leadership."

"And if we refuse, we're directly responsible for the continuation of Imperial tyrrany, is that what you're trying to say?"

Luke grinned, actually grinned at that, "Now you're putting words in my mouth." he said, half reproachful, half-indulgent. "I'm _saying_ that we have a chance to change that law together. Quickly; effectively, without my having to commit my military to controlling you and without your actions providing the impetus for the Royal Houses to claim the need for their continued intervention and regulation. Whilst these restrictions are still necessary I can't move the Empire forward as quickly or effectively as I otherwise could. And if I can't outpace the ability of my detractors to react and organize themselves then I and my policies remain at risk – as does interplanetary stability."

"You're asking me to facilitate the reign of a dictator?"

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, "If I were the tyrant you seem so bent on labeling me as, why would I need your help?"

"You just said why; to stabilize your own rule."

"Oh believe me, if that were all that I wanted I could do it inside a month. I could arrest my detractors, dismantle any resistance, reinstate systemwide, unrestricted military power, weaken and destabilize the Royal Houses and rule as my predecessor did. I know exactly how that model goes – I had years of experience in enforcing it."

"And now you've had a change of heart." Leia said dryly.

"No, now I have an opportunity – and so do you. This is a chance to achieve it without unnecessary suffering."

"Suffering?" Leia echoed accusingly, "You have no concept of it – no concept of hell other than how to inflict it on others."

"Oh believe me, I know what hell is."

In that first second as he spoke Leia thought it was a threat, but when she looked to him she realized it was anything but. For a single heartbeat she saw the splinter, heard the pain – and it seemed so very real, like a cry for help. But it lasted all of a second and was smothered–

And something in him changed, so abruptly that Leia _saw_ it happen, watched his expression harden as those shields came up. Saw him search for a way to push her back, to alienate her. Saw the Emperor sit straight and tall, heard the tone and the timbre of his voice change. "You're full of accusations, but your Rebellion has a narrow idea of liberty – you believe absolutely that for your freedom to exist then nothing else can co-exist; the very thing you accuse me of. You blindly chase the wanton destruction of your perceived enemy and cause global and system-wide destabilization. You suffer the worst, most delusive of all vices; you consider yourself just."

Leia recoiled, stung at the barbed accusation, at the unexpected ferocity of it. "And you're willfully blind. The Empire flaunts even the most basic civil rights. For years you've endorsed and encouraged slavery–"

"Which is now illegal."

"You detain people without trial–"

"A practice which is being strongly dealt with now – all Imperial citizens are entitled to arraignment and trial."

"You subjugate by force."

"We preserve order between otherwise hostile borders."

"You maintain a massive military."

"Who patrol and uphold stability over an extensive area – something your Rebellion is forcing me to do."

"Words." Leia dismissed, tiring of the game, knowing he'd have an answer to every accusation. "These are just words. Surface sophistries to buy your own power."

"I have, I assure you, no need to 'buy' any power."

"Then why are you here?" Leia asked, "Why am_ I_ here, and not in some detention centre?"

Luke looked down, his fingers steepled before his lips as if to stop himself speaking further, eyes closed as if searching for patience. Leia's eyes were drawn again by the heavy ring he wore on his little finger, intense blue… like those pale eyes which studied her now, barred by many layers of shields.

"Master Yoda was the Jedi Master who taught me when Ben Kenobi died… did you know that?"

"No," Leia shook her head, wondering where this new assault would lead.

Luke nodded, face a mask of detached indifference, "He was one of the Jedi Order's Council of Twelve leading up to the fall of the Republic; those whose views led the Jedi, shaped the galaxy they protected."

Leia remained wary, looking for the trap as Luke continued, his tone casually conversational now.

"When I realised that you were in danger on Bespin – when I wanted to help you – do you know what he said?"

"No," her voice was barely a whisper.

"He said no; to let you die. He dressed it up in some empty semblance of honor and duty of course; cited his greater cause… but basically, that's what he ordered me to do. If I honored what you fought for, then I should sacrifice you."

_And look what had happened when you defied him._ "Perhaps he was right."

"Really?" Luke set his head just slightly, and Leia knew she was watching the snare close. "He was right, and I should have left you to die."

"We didn't die."

"That's completely immaterial; the fact remains that I should be _expected_ to sacrifice those around me to achieve certain goals. Prepared to."

"They were your goals once."

"Again, immaterial. What I'm asking is, is it right to allow three beings to die simply because it furthers my own ends? In fact, it didn't even do that; it was simply _convenient_."

"We were soldiers. We knew the risks and…"

"We? I wasn't aware than Chewie and Han had joined your Rebellion way back then. In fact, I think if I'd asked Han at the time whether he would mind laying down his life on the offhand chance that it served my plans, he would have given me a very different answer – and I wouldn't have blamed him."

"Some sacrifices are…"

"Yes, but which ones? And when do they become too many… when do the ends fail to justify the means? How do you know when you've gone too far? You absolve me of all guilt if I'd left you to rot, yet you judge me for making the same sacrifices with others."

"Yoda was a Jedi."

"And so of course you would have me be just like him? Prepared to pay any price, give any life to achieve my goals? To simply dismiss those around me as irrelevant before my personal destiny? To judge myself above them; entitled to decide who lived and who died based on my own narrow objectives? Is that what you wanted me to become?"

"It's what you are." Leia saw the trap as she sprung it, clamping her mouth shut on her reply a second too late, realizing that either way it would have sprung just the same. No, and he would have accused her of hypocrisy, of wishing him to serve an order whose views she rejected as unsound; yes and he would call her on the fact that somehow the same actions committed for similar reasons could be judged differently– as he did now.

"Then why am I so different from a Jedi?"

"Your reasons are different. Your justifications… and you know it."

"Really? And why do you think I kill… assuming I do."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You kill to f…"

"Further my own objectives?" He lifted his eyebrows knowingly, "Yes, we've covered that already."

Leia raised he chin. "Ambitions. Further your own ambitions."

Again that head-tilt, "I think we're arguing semantics now."

"No, we're arguing motivations. You kill to further you own _personal_ ambitions."

"Which are?"

"Power."

"To what end, do you imagine?" She hesitated, and he was there in an instant, "Power isn't an end in itself, it's simply a means to an end."

"Only someone with your kind of power would say that."

"Perhaps only someone in my position could truly appreciate it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning… what I do, I do for a reason."

"Power."

He gritted his teeth, "I just told you; power is a means to an end, not an end in itself. I give you enough credit to know that you don't lead the Rebel Alliance simply for the kudos of leadership."

Leia leaned back slightly, "Go on then?"

He hesitated; steepled his fingers again, voice that smooth veneer of quiet calm. "Everything I do is for a reason… why do you assume that reason has changed?"

She almost laughed aloud, "Seriously? Because you claimed you wanted to overthrow the Empire you now rule."

"Because I wanted to change a system I believed unfair," he corrected. "I find I'm now in a position to do that."

"You think that validates the path you chose to get there?" Leia couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice.

"I didn't _choose_ this path – but I did take the opportunities it presented."

"Now who's arguing semantics?"

He let the slightest of smiles touch his scarred lips at that in acknowledgment of her landing a blow – and why did she want to smile with him, as if this were all a game.

"I've told you before, I don't excuse my actions; I need neither your forgiveness nor your approval."

"Then what do you need, Luke?"

"Your assent – your accord."

"And how do I know we're not just another set of lives to be sacrificed to your private cause?"

He lifted his chin and looked her squarely in the eye - and something changed; in his voice, in his manner, in his sincerity. "Because you know me. Whatever else I am – and you know that I'll accept all blame willingly if I think its true – I'm still that man who wouldn't leave his friends to die on Bespin. I take no life lightly."

Leia sat back, eyes narrowing; could she believe him? Should she trust the man who murdered Palpatine to gain his throne, or was this all just power games with a deadly sting? He half-shrugged, a self-effacing gesture Luke had made so often – the Luke she had known. _She had known_… Leia wondered again what was real and what was created; wondered whether she could break through those shields.

She glanced down, taking a moment, looking for a path… and a line of thought came abruptly to her mind. Without even thinking, she spoke it aloud, "You know, when I returned home after Devaron, I pulled up an old file. I'm not sure why, but I searched it out on the archives and pulled it up and watched it four or five times."

Luke remained silent and still, expression impenetrable, as wary of Leia now as she had been of him moments before.

"It was a file we got from the Bothans, about nine months after… after Bespin," she continued. "The first images we'd seen of you since you'd returned to Coruscant. Just a short run of images taken from high orbit. It was you… you, walking beside Palpatine on the roof gardens of the Palace. Just… walking – like it was nothing! Like you _belonged_ there!"

"The Monolith," Luke corrected mechanically, unmoved by her burst of emotion, rebuffing her search for connection; "We call the main Palace the Monolith."

"Just walking!" Leia continued, refusing to be sidetracked, "With Palpatine. The first images since your _supposed_ capture."

Luke remained still, trying hard not to remember, not to be manipulated, a glut of memories impacting on conscious thoughts with crippling effect, unknowingly induced by Leia's words. But it seeped up through the cracks of those deep-set shields, the memory enveloping his thoughts and dragging them down. He remembered the biting cold of the night; the exhilaration of standing outside that damn Palace after almost nine months caged inside it, the most controlling, intimidating, dispiriting tomb of a place he'd ever experienced. Remembered the release of breathing fresh air, real air, not baked and scoured and filtered to death, the memory of that release still fresh after all this time:-

"You've done well." Palpatine had conceded as he'd settled back into his grand, carved chair, set on a stepped dais before his advocate, placing them at eye level. "We've made much ground in the past weeks. You should be rewarded."

Luke remembered exactly the tightening of his chest, the wary suspicion that had seized him. Already he knew his Master well enough to know that 'rewards' were often a double-edged sword. His eyes narrowed beneath the shadow of his growing hair, long enough now to twist into loose curls, unheeded.

"What would you like, my friend?" Palpatine had asked indulgently, clearly amused at the Luke's cynicism, so natural to him now.

Luke had remained silent for a long time, unsure whether to believe the Emperor or whether this was just another game, one of so many. But he had to ask;

"I want to go out," he'd said with quiet, distanced dignity, little hope in his voice. "Outside the Palace."

"Out? And what is out there that you cannot find here, my friend?"

"_Air," h_e'd wanted to say;_ "Fresh air."_

Not the dry, dead, desiccated stuff which hung in these halls, but life– real life. But he'd remained silent, holding the Emperor's eye, allowing neither hope nor mistrust to color his expression, having learned that either one spelled failure in his Master's eyes. The silence hung heavy as neither man moved, Palpatine studying his Jedi, sense taunting.

"Very well." He'd allowed at last, "Out we shall go."

_We;_ Luke hadn't missed that. Even in this he would no longer be left alone. But he'd nodded just once, his shoulders dropping imperceptibly now that the decision was made. It was better than nothing; it was still out. Small victories were all that anyone gained here– you took them when you could and valued every one.

It had been winter; he remembered distinctly the glacial cold that settled in the lofty halls of the Palace Towers. The way the colours were bled dry, the thin light robbing them of any life, always cold – parts of the Palace never warmed, the light of the sun never once touching them. Palpatine had ordered cloaks for himself and his advocate and Luke had stood in still silence, waiting, barely able to control his anticipation though he was terrified that Palpatine would know anyway and rip this small concession from his reach at the very last second.

There had been guards everywhere of course. It was an hour since Luke had made the request and Palpatine had acquiesced, summoning Cordo to his quarters immediately, informing the Aide that he and his Jedi would walk in the private gardens on the roof of the Monolith and ordering him to make arrangements and bring cloaks, which clearly meant to assemble suitable security, Luke realized, as he had finally stepped out into the freezing night, breathing deep.

Probably close to a hundred sets of wary eyes watched his every move, but it didn't matter; all that mattered was that he was out of that damn Palace, out of those staid, silent, hushed halls where everyone whispered and bowed and tiptoed around the Emperor's will, tempted and terrified in the same instant, desperate to leave but hypnotized by the power and position they believed they could gain here. He saw it daily as he was dragged everywhere with Palpatine, forced to become a part of that world, no matter how much he despised were all fools, playing empty, doomed games. Every hour he spent in his Master's presence only reinforced Luke's knowledge of that. Palpatine gave no power save that which served him; he allowed no advancement save that which benefited him. There was nothing here but shadows and lies.

After nine long months, it was this more than anything else which was burned into Luke's soul; Palpatine's will was absolute here. It could not be circumvented, it could not be bought, it could not be bartered. He would do what he wished. What empowered him, what benefited him… what amused him. His will was absolute, and everyone else here was reduced to ciphers and shadows. Pale lives lived in the dust and the shadows of these dead, choked, airless halls.

The oppressive silence ate away at him, as it did every other being here, reducing them to shadows too. That first night standing in the freezing darkness breathing fresh, frigid air after so very long, he felt, just for a short while, alive again.

But he knew at the back of his mind that sooner or later he'd have to return to the whispering shadows– that was where he belonged now.

His Master had already begun to publicly refer to Luke as his 'Wolf' and privately, Luke knew why; knew the visions and the nightmares which plagued his Master's thoughts when he looked to Luke. But if he was a wolf then he was kept chained. Even when he was outside of his cage, the chains were always there, Luke knew; always there. His Master had taken great care to place them, to lock them about his precious wolf lest it disappeared into the night.

And eventually… eventually he'd stopped trying, stopped craving… stopped hoping. Because it was just too hard to keep on believing that he could somehow step beyond Palpatine's all-pervading influence. So he'd stayed in the Palace; stayed in his rooms and sat in still silence until he was summoned to Court or to his Master's chambers or to the Practice Halls, to train under his Master's critical eye. He did as he was ordered without resistance or dispute, no emotion at all, whatever the command. Then he returned to his rooms, locking himself away again, Mara always there like his shadow, but silent now before his own bleak mood.

He refused permission for anyone to visit him, even Hallin turned away without reasons, again and again. He simply sat, staring at the floor, or at the fire set in the open grate against the winter chill which pervaded the place, Palpatine preferring the frigid temperatures of the Coruscanti winter, his will absolute even in this. He ate little and spoke less, still in mind and body, and he waited to fade away like so many others had here, lost in the shadows and the darkness…

In a strange way it had saved him. Palpatine held out for a long time, ignoring Luke's increasing isolation, considering it a ploy to gain him… something. What Luke didn't know. Didn't care at the time. But eventually he'd heeded Hallin's repeated requests, and Luke had been allowed short, heavily-guarded respites from the Palace.

Few at first; an hour spent inspecting a close Garrison, a half-day flight to a nearby dignitary as part of Palpatine's entourage– and he hadn't expected any more would come, waiting for the twist of the knife. But they had, half-days stretching to days, then two or three, then a week. Always surrounded by security, always closely watched, but still, it let him breathe. Gave him hope, the illusion of autonomy, no matter how futile.

It was a long time before he had learned that if he wanted anything in this place then he must take it, by subterfuge or by force; either would do and neither were discouraged by his Master – unless he was clumsy enough to be discovered; then the punishment was always severe. Longer before he had realized that if he wanted freedom from Palpatine's controlling contrivances then he must take it. Longer still before he had recognized that even that wasn't enough; to be free of Palpatine's reach wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted true freedom; he wanted everything that the naive, raw, idealistic pilot had wanted the first time he'd climbed into that X-Wing. He wanted freedom for everyone, everywhere.

The only way to gain it was to take Palpatine down – and the only way to ensure it, was to take his place.

Right? Wrong? Flawed? Blind?

He didn't know. All he knew was how badly he wanted everything that Luke Skywalker had once craved. How much he wanted to rescue some part of his former self from this damned life, no matter how small. All he knew was that he had a goal, a reason to exist, and it kept him sane through Palpatine's ruthless, paranoid manipulations and vicious, pitiless reproaches. He wanted freedom – true freedom – and thanks to his Master's oppressive influence, this was the only way he knew how to gain it any more.

.

Leia didn't stop her close scrutiny of Luke as he sat in momentary silence, unknown thoughts passing across his eyes as he narrowed them, lost in thought at the words she'd uttered. She watched him reflexively turn the heavy blue-stoned ring on his little finger, still unsure which was the act and which was the man - if Skywalker even knew himself anymore.

"Who are you?" Leia asked again, but the tone of her voice this time was softened by compassion, by deep uncertainty, by a real willingness to believe. Another question left her lips, formed by some deeper recognition, "Who _were_ you?"

She made to ask again, but he interrupted, his voice low, tight with warning as he pulled clear of private thoughts, "It's immaterial. I know what I am now– I told you I have no illusions. It's you who's trying to deceive yourself. You're looking for the shadow of someone long dead, and every moment that you see the slightest shade of it you try to twist it and force it and fit it into your vision of what you _wish_ to see. You think that you can will that person back into being but you're wrong. I can tell you for a fact that you're wrong."

He wanted her to understand- to realize that the man she was now clearly trying so hard to reach was shattered and broken beyond repair. If it were possible to resurrect him, did she not think that Luke himself would have done so long ago? Did she not understand the danger she placed herself in just by being here – that from minute to minute, he could change; he _could not be trusted_. The knowledge of that suddenly inspired him with the urgent need to make her protect herself, for her sake. Because every time that she came here, every time that he had her so completely in his power, he walked the knife-edge of temptation to simply remove her – destroy her. To fulfill the plan he'd told others was in effect here and convince Leia to bring the Rebellion's leadership here simply to destroy them. All of them, completely.

Because it would be so easy and he knew it. Had made plans for it again and again. The Rebel Alliance continued to exist by the most slender of threads and even Luke knew that his own good grace was a capricious, precarious thing.

"You're searching for understanding - then understand this; I will _always_ do whatever I perceive of as necessary to achieve my goal. I will _always_ pay that price."

Leia frowned, hearing the implied warning. "Then why are you telling me this?"

A flicker of emotion finally ignited his eyes in a spark of frustration, his demeanor changing again before Leia's eyes, from calm and controlled to volatile and dangerous. "I want you to understand what I am. What I'm capable of. How likely do you think it is that you, whom I've spoken with so little in the last six years, could see within me so clearly and judge my character more accurately than those who are closest to me, because believe me when I say that they were amazed that you came here – that you were willing to give me the benefit of the doubt a second time."

"And yet here I am, still in one piece."

Luke shook his head, "I could so very easily destroy you. Remove you from the equation completely and continue with my plans unchallenged."

"Just like that?"

His lip twitched just slightly at the resolute confidence radiating from her, "It took me three months to get Mothma."

It was calculated to shock, Leia knew; spoken to instigate a reaction, and she wouldn't be so easily led, "It would take a good deal longer to get me, I assure you."

Again that smile, like a garrall staring down at its dinner, "Not too long, considering you're four steps away from me right now."

Leia felt a surge of adrenaline as her heart skipped a beat, but she clamped her jaw shut against the threat… and surprisingly Luke backed down, standing to turn and walk a few steps back, putting some space between them, as much to cool his own temper as to reassure her, Leia felt.

"That was unfair- I apologize." He turned back towards her, voice even now. The fire didn't leave his eyes though; that sense of a feral edge held in check; "Though that doesn't make it any less true."

It wasn't a threat; when she looked to him his face, like his voice, remained neutral – and in an unexpected flash of insight Leia remembered her own words to Han just days ago; that she suspected it was because from one moment to the next Luke didn't even know himself what he would do anymore.

"Why do you say these things?" Leia asked at last, no challenge in her words.

"I told you," He turned coolly aside, though there was something in his eyes, something that couldn't hold her gaze anymore. "I take no life lightly."

"But you still take them."

He straightened, instantly shifting to the offensive again, "If I have to. And don't deny the same; you're a leader – you've sent soldiers into battle knowing they wouldn't return."

"I haven't shot them myself."

"You've killed soldiers on the battlefield."

"I've killed my enemies." Leia emphasized.

"So have I."

Leia pursed her lips, caught again, made aware once more of just how much the man she'd thought she known had changed that he did this so easily, twisting words and intent with equal ease. Or had he changed at all? Was this always the speed of his mind and he'd simply hidden it before behind easy smiles and gentle shrugs – because when she thought back, Luke Skywalker had always been sharp in the actual field of conflict; always been smart enough to think on his feet and stay cool and logical enough under pressure to get himself and those around him out of whatever trouble they were in.

Those around him… hadn't he always fought so hard for those around him, always tried so very hard to bring the same amount of people back from any conflict that he had entered it with? Hadn't he always seemed so devastated if he didn't?

Hadn't he always been the man who no life lightly.

Leia paused, looking at the man who stood five paces back from the table now, remaining in the shadows of the room as if he belonged there, "Please… sit down."

Luke held back a few seconds longer, then sighed and strode quickly forward, sitting, and they both glanced down, neither willing to launch another round of arguments.

Leia too sighed, shaking her head wryly, "You make it so difficult sometimes."

"To do what?" he asked. "Argue or talk?"

"Either," she said. "Both."

He glanced away with a half-smile, the atmosphere dropping a few degrees closer to comfort for both of them. Resettling in his chair, Luke stretched his legs to the side, resting his chin in his hand, the act familiar and unassuming and very… Luke.

"I was born around the same time as the Empire," he said at last. "We grew up together. It's always been here, my whole life. I was born into a totalitarian state and lived my whole life in the same, never once knowing this ideal that's been taken from the past, dusted down and held up as some paradigm of perfection. In that, I acknowledge my weakness; I'm trying to reinstate something that I've never myself seen or been a part of; democracy. I guess we're the same in this… because for all your claims that you wish it reinstated, you're asking for something that you have no knowledge or experience of."

"Meaning?" He didn't move as Leia narrowed her eyes, only now she wondered whether that relaxed, unassuming position was more empty contrivance than unaffected habit.

"I guess I'm asking whether the democracy you're fighting to reinstate is true democracy, or some idealistic notion. I at least, am realistic in what I can achieve and how. Or do you think that toppling the present regime will bring about instant democracy? Because I don't believe you that naïve."

"Are you claiming that Palpatine's Empire can ever give birth to true democracy? I don't believe _you_ that naïve."

"This isn't Palpatine's Empire," Luke corrected, "It's mine. I'm offering a genuine, realistic alternative to the endless fighting. My intent _is_ to make this Empire a democracy – but to do that I realize I will have to make compromises."

Leia remained silent, aware that he was asking the same of her.

When she didn't reply, he sat up slightly. "I don't think there's any such thing as a simple, overnight solution; I think that it may require years to do this – to achieve a bloodless coup without the military turning on its own and the Empire devolving into civil war. But believe this – if you accept nothing else today, believe this; I am committed to it. I will do it. If possible I will do it with your help; I will reabsorb the Alliance, give it a political voice and entitlement." He tilted his head, "If not… I'll do it without you."

"You can't bring democracy about by threats and ultimatums."

"How about by debate and compromise?" Luke asked, "The former is what your vaunted democracy stands on, isn't it? And the latter is what's necessary to make it work."

"I can't.."

"Work with me, and I can implement the reinstatement of the Senate at the first practical, prudent opportunity."

"Which means we stop opposing you."

"Which means that you're required to do your part in creating a peace that will enable us to move forward, yes." Luke shook his head, mismatched eyes searching her face. "You seem so eager to give up your life for freedom… is it so hard to give up this; this distrust, this suspicion, this cynicism? You were always prepared to take up arms in the name of peace… are you willing to lay them down for the same?"

Leia glanced down, more torn than ever, more hopeful, more afraid. He'd become the consummate statesman, pulling stirring speeches from the air about him and launching them with unerring aim, but how much was true? How much was empty persuasion from the man who was tutored by Palpatine – Palpatine, who instigated a war and undermined the Senate at its height, never once under suspicion… until it was too late.

Leia brought her hands to her face and sighed, irresolute. "Tell me how I can trust you?"

He leaned forward, "You want a display of how serious I really am? You want a true gesture of good faith?" Resting his weight on his elbow he turned his hand palm-up, holding out his first two fingers – and between them was a data chip. "There are a set of co-ordinates here. Follow them. Go alone. Along with the co-ordinates is a security access code and transmission frequency which you _must_ broadcast as soon as you drop from lightspeed to stop the unmanned automated defences from firing on you."

Leia glanced down to the chip, the gravity in his voice as Luke continued making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"There will be a single Destroyer in orbit, but if you've transmitted the code it won't challenge you. Understand; this _must_ be kept secret…" He hesitated; "If you choose to make my actions public then it may well topple me from power; the choice is yours, Leia… I'll just have to trust you."

.

.

He'd stood when she rose to leave, the data chip in her hand as she paused just once to meet his gaze… and again Luke had that momentary sense of recognition as he stared into serious, strong, mahogany-brown eyes… then it was gone, as she was, and he was stood alone in the shabby, austere room which could well have spawned the beginning of a democracy… or the end of a two-decade-long rebellion.

She didn't know whether to trust him or not, that much was clear, and he couldn't blame her. But maybe she understood now, recognized his resolve if not his incentive. Because Force help her if she stood in his way; if she crossed him. He didn't know what he would…

Luke shook his head, interrupting that thought; no, he would make it work. He'd sworn to his rancorous old Master who had taken such delight in breaking Luke to pieces that he would do the self-same thing to the Empire that Palpatine so loved. His one true child. He wouldn't give Palpatine his victory, wouldn't give him his precious Sith Dynasty. He'd vowed that he would take down everything that Palpatine had done, everything that he had built. Take the Empire whose casual cruelty had destroyed his and so many other lives apart a piece at a time until there was nothing left. Until even the memory of it was gone, a momentary aberration fading to nothing.

And when he had done that, he'd take his Master's ashes and he'd scatter them to the wind, just as he'd sworn. He _would_ do it. He would pay any price – and he'd known what the price had been, even then. He was Sith now, and could never go back. She should understand that.

And for himself? Who would free the galaxy of Luke Skywalker? He sighed, gazing again to the empty door through which the woman he'd once been so close to had just left, giving him one final glance, so full of wary distrust. The fact was that there were people on both sides of the divide queuing up for the honor of slaying him. He had no illusions…but he had his goal. And he would see it through. Then maybe the Force would be through with him. Maybe it would let him sleep – for one night or an eternity; it didn't matter anymore.

.

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	19. Chapter 19

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The door to the small, spartan room slid open and Luke looked up to see Mara enter, the corridor behind her which led back to the main levels of Hosk Station empty. She walked slowly round to stand close, turning to look down the vacant corridor when she neared him, her dry tone dragging Luke out of his reverie. "I take it from Organa's expression that there wasn't an epiphany. You don't seem to be getting any closer."

"I don't need to yet," Luke replied, straightening, pulling anxious, unsettled thoughts back into a more steady, authoritative mindset, aware of Mara's close scrutiny and the fact that she would sense his mental state. "I told you, there's no timetable for this."

"But there _is_ a goal?" Mara asked. He had that air of volatility about him now, that brittle edge, chest rising quickly in short breaths, obviously on edge.

"There are always goals." Luke evaded, setting for the door, eager to be gone from the stark, white-walled room which reminded him so much of his time with Palpatine, making a conscious effort not to shiver as he passed over the threshold, pulling his thoughts back to the present by force of will. "There's more going on here than persuasion. She's now keeping secrets from her own leadership, withholding information and making decisions on their behalf that they're not even aware of. If she never brings her Council to the table, if this all amounts to nothing, then I still have that fact to use."

"You're dividing them." Mara realized.

Luke nodded. "I don't need her to bring them to the table to do that."

"You're going to leak it?"

"No – and neither will you."

Mara faltered, "No? But the damage is done – she'll be ousted from power."

"And then what – be replaced by another? By Madine maybe? Then I _would_ have to bring them down."

Mara's voice dropped shrewdly, "As opposed to…?"

"Stop trying to corner me Mara." Luke didn't turn, his voice hardening.

"Why?" there was more force than she'd meant in the challenge, and it turned him about, furious. From the tense way he'd whirled on her, Mara had expected an outburst, a reprimand, an argument… something. So when he simply stared at her, jaw locked, eyes teeming with suppressed emotion, Mara stared…

It was a slow comprehension, gathering momentum as more and more facts fell into place, realization burning through her thoughts like wildfire, widening her eyes. "You don't know yourself, do you? You don't _know_ what you're going to do – whether you're going to use her or not…" All the vague claims Luke had made so many times, always shifting, always evolving as the situation changed – but never willing to elucidate, never giving enough to be tied down, even among those he trusted. "You don't even know whether you're going to do this… this whole plan, this whole strategy... you haven't decided yet."

Luke turned about and started walking mechanically down the corridor, eyes ahead. "My goal remains the same, whatever path I choose," he replied levelly.

Mara shook her head, more at her own blindness than anything else, because what had she claimed to have learned so well about him; if it _seemed_ perfectly logical, the obvious choice, then Luke was at the very least misleading and probably outright lying. That was what he _did_; what he'd always done, even with Palpatine - how he'd learned to survive. He made the logical choice seem the only choice, hid his real intent behind the facts and somehow made you see them as the same thing. She'd said it to herself a hundred times, applied it without fail to even his smallest actions… yet never once thought to bring it to bear on the greater picture. "Why do I get the feeling that I don't even know what that goal is… the plan you're speaking out loud isn't the one you intend, is it…. is it?"

She took his arm and he turned on her, that perfect façade cracking in a burst of anger. "I don't _know_, okay?! I can't tell you what I don't know myself. Because it changes from day to day Mara, from minute to minute sometimes and I can't.." he broke off, turning away, frustration and bewilderment obvious.

Because it wasn't just this; it wasn't just Leia Organa, Mara realized. It really was everything; it was the Empire, the future… _everything_. It was Light and Darkness, it was his soul and his sanity… and from one moment to the next that was shifting, the fractures deepening. He simply couldn't be what Palpatine had forced him to be – not completely – but he couldn't step back from it, not any more.

"Everyone's trying to second-guess me; you, Nathan, Han, Leia Organa… everyone's trying to second-guess me and I don't even know myself… I don't _know_ if Leia is safe around me or not! I'm balancing every day on the edge of the blade and I don't _know_ what it will take to make me stumble – all I know is that I will… sooner or later, I always do. I can't.."

The words locked in his throat and Mara stepped in close, voice quiet now as she brought one arm up to wrap about his neck, moved by Luke's anguish, by the nerve-edge desperation in this rare outburst, more emotion overflowing those tight, locked-up shields in this last minute than she'd seen in months.

"All right." She tightened her arm about him, felt his own wrap about her back as he pulled her tight and she shook her head against his chest, "Luke you can't go on like this."

He tensed beneath her genuine concern, those perfect shields raised again in quicksilver rejection, the flash of shredded torment tempered to that familiar brittle edge, all else locked away. "You're right." He stated, deadpan, "I'll just stop now, shall I?"

"Stop _this_ at least. Don't see her again, find another way."

He straightened, slipping free of her to start walking again, jaw flexing. "I have to."

"Why?"

"Because the fact remains that I have those goals. Only how I achieve them is… flexible. Either I destroy her or I incorporate her into them. Either way my goal remains the same."

"Then remove her from the equation."

"No. I can handle this."

Mara shook her head; he was still the most stubborn man she'd ever met. "What if she's using you?"

"She won't use me. I won't let her."" Luke said coolly, completely in control again, though Mara knew how tenuous that poise really was.

"She's saying exactly the same thing to someone right now!" Mara said, rushing to keep up with his stride, frustrated that he couldn't see this – that he _wouldn't_. "She's saying 'He won't use me because I won't let him'. Can't you see that? Can't you see how much alike you are?"

Luke almost smiled at that, "I'm like the leader of the rebellion against me?"

"Yes! You're both commanders by the strength of your own accomplishments, you both lead from the front, by action not words. You both think you still have to get in there and get your hands dirty or you feel you're no longer in touch with what you're fighting for. You both look at the greater cause, the bigger picture. You're both stubborn and wilful and once you lock onto a course you won't back down or let go, whatever the cost to yourself."

Luke paused at the doorway to the more public sections, his undercover guards loitering beyond. "You could say the same of over half the people you know."

"No I couldn't," Mara said, "You just don't see that; don't know how exceptional that makes you."

"And her?"

Mara turned away, sullen. "It just makes her dangerous."

"That's what I have you for." Luke soothed, tone teasing now, though Mara didn't let it drop.

"Yeah, well I'm not much good if you don't tell me what's really going on, am I?"

"You know everything that's going on in my life, Red."

Oh, how quickly he could flip it round, even now. From explosive to distraught to charming in the space of twenty steps, twisting his own emotions as easily as he twisted the facts to fit the moment. "No, I just know more than other people – which isn't saying very much."

"You know I'm not very good with the trust thing." Luke dismissed lightly. And for a second – just a second – his hand raised, the backs of his fingers brushing against her cheek, and it would be so easy to fall for this proffered closeness…

But those sky-blue eyes were too bright and too beguiling and she knew him better than to be so easily led. "And yet you came here with less than two dozen soldiers."

His hand dropped – but his smile remained, genuine now, no artifice behind it, "That doesn't mean I trust her, simply that I accepted the necessity in this instance, just as she did."

Mara nodded, "Just as she did. Just as you knew she would, because she's _just like you_. Because she'll do what she believes is right… and so will you. Because she'll suffer and she'll fight and she'll take outrageous, unreasonable risks for what she believes in."

"Perhaps we both believe in the same thing." Luke said evenly.

Mara frowned, wary, because that made no sense whatsoever… which filled her with trepidation. "Perhaps you do. But if so that's the most dangerous thing of all… because you'll trust her. In the end, that'll make you trust her, because you think that you have the same views, the same goals. And that really is the most dangerous thing of all Luke, because I'm damn sure you're walking two very different paths to achieve them."

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.

Leia sat in silence curled up on the Navigator's seat in the Falcon's cockpit, considering. Chewie had gone back to the engineering bay to check out the sublight engines now that they'd gone to lightspeed, the former making some worrying noises on takeoff.

Leia hadn't even batted an eyebrow as Han had grumbled yet again that Luke had held the Falcon for four years and he hadn't even fixed the rattle in the sublights. Hadn't blinked when, as if it were a legitimate complaint, Chewie had argued that the cub probably had more pressing things to deal with at the time. Hadn't reacted when Han had replied in kind, grumbling "Whatever. I'm just sayin' it's a small job and I'm figuring he had a whole Star Destroyer's-worth of engineers hanging around just waitin' to be told what to do."

To them it was all so simple. All so clear.

She'd remained in the cockpit, lost in thought, as Chewie headed aft, running the debate on Hosk Station over and over in her mind. There was so much to consider, so much to weigh up, personal feelings against the greater good… what felt right in her gut weighed against larger responsibilities and duties.

'_It's not what you call us and it's not where we stand. It's what we do which defines us.'_

Her father's words, long ago. Had it been this hard for him too? He'd always seemed so sure to Leia, as if every decision had only one possible right answer, every objective only one path. What would he say now – what would he do, confronted with this? Would he tell her to answer her conscience, as he always had, or would he admonish her to bear in mind all those whose lives were dependant on her decisions; that duty came before personal feelings?

One thing was slowly percolating down into a troubled realization for Leia, and she didn't know if it was the truth or just another manipulation, carefully calculated to mislead. Because for so much of that conversation, she had argued with Luke Skywalker. Not the Emperor – not Vader's son or Palpatine's protégé, not the spy who had infiltrated the Rebellion to take secrets back to his Master – but Luke Skywalker.

"_Everything I do is for a reason… why do you assume that reason has changed?"  
_"_Seriously? Because you once wanted to overthrow the Empire you now rule."  
_"_Because I wanted to change a system I believed unfair. I find I'm now in a position to do that."_

The man in that room had spoken today as if Luke Skywalker were real.

Luke Skywalker, who had lived on Tatooine and rescued a princess and joined a Rebellion to fight for what he believed in. Luke Skywalker, who had been taken by force from everything he knew and had lost his way so completely. At the time, in the moment, Leia hadn't even considered it, hadn't even realized that as she quarreled and queried today, it was with _him_. Not the Emperor, not Palpatine's advocate; she was arguing _with Luke Skywalker_ that he'd lost his way… and his replies had remained totally in character, his arguments stemming exclusively from that point of view, that reality, as if it had all been true…

And Leia found herself secretly wondering all over again… what if it was?

.

"Quiet?" Han didn't turn.

"Hmm?"

"I said you're quiet," Han repeated. "Not that I'm complaining, it's just such a rarity that I though it deserved a mention."

"Thanks." Leia said dryly.

Han turned back from the glazed twists of light which whipped through the void of lightspeed. "So how'd it go?"

Leia shook her head, pulling her knees up tighter.

"That good, huh?" Han asked easily, giving her a lopsided half-smile.

Leia buried her head in her hands with a long sigh, "Ohhhh… I think I should tell the Council."

She hadn't yet. She should have, but she hadn't. She should have told then the first time, and now she was compounding the error…. because the fact was she had no intention of telling them – not yet. When she took it to them, it would be because she understood, because she knew what Luke was really trying to do. It would be when she knew, when she could tell them all whhether they should either help or hinder – and she sure as hell didn't know that yet.

"He gave me something." She said at last to Han.

"Keys to the Empire?" he quipped.

Leia pulled the small chip from her pocket, "You know, it could well be. He gave me a data chip… then he told me if anyone knew he'd given it to me, it could depose him."

Han swung his chair completely around from the console to look at Leia, who held up the data chip. "That's it?"

"This is it."

"What's on it?"

She turned it over in her hand, "You know, I have no idea. Co-ordinates, he said."

Han took the chip, "And you didn't think to mention this earlier?"

"I was… deciding." Leia said slowly.

Han apparently, didn't feel a similar need, having already taken the chip and fed it into a data slot in the navigator's console.

"Wait!" Leia said, "It could have a relay signal or…"

Han gave her his best dry glance from the corner of his eye, already leaning forward to the small viewer. "Co-ordinates alright. Way out though. What's all this stuff with it?"

Leia leaned in, unable to stop herself now that the decision had been made for her. She'd spent the last hour deliberating over whether or not to view the chip; whether to play Luke's games or whether to take this to the Council; whether it was a ploy or a persuasion or neither or both… and Han had just plain looked at the damn thing. Sometimes you had to love him.

She frowned at the run of code, "Wait, he said something about a security code and a transmission frequency."

"This is some serious code." Han said, watching the numbers scroll. "This is high-end stuff; it's self-perpetuating… look at this; it's rewriting as we're watching it."

Leia leaned in, a cold twist writhing down her spine and making her shiver. "I don't like this."

Han only grinned, "We have _got_ to find out what this is for."

Leia nodded, "As soon as we've been back."

"Seriously… you're seriously telling me you don't want to find out what this is to, right now?"

"I don't know," Leia said reluctantly.

"C'mon, this is a day out of our way. Two at the most."

"This could take us straight into the middle of an Imperial fleet putting out a code that everyone's waiting for."

"Hey, if he wanted to catch us, he was sat right opposite you a few hours ago. Anyway, this isn't an identity code, it's way too complex. This is something bigger."

Han turned, and Leia knew he must have seen the doubt in her face, because he pulled out his best grin; the one he kept for when he wanted to fly in the face of all reasonable logic. "C'mon, it's us… what could possibly go wrong?"

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They came out of lightspeed to make a brief course change, sending a short message to Home-One to inform them that the Falcon would be a day or so behind. In doing so, they lost their escort, still unreachable in Lightspeed, winging their way back to the fleet.

They didn't mention why they were detained, Leia not wanting this to become common knowledge, some part of her wanting to uphold the faith that had been placed in her by Luke in giving her this, though she couldn't bring herself yet to consider whether he deserved such consideration.

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It was barely a day's travel, and Han seemed determined to fill most of it by quizzing Leia again and again on what instructions Luke had given her when he gave her the chip.

"I've told you, that's all he said," Leia sighed, tired of repeating herself. "He said to broadcast the main code on that frequency as soon as we arrived, then he said that there'd be a Destroyer in orbit, but it wouldn't challenge us if we broadcast the code."

Han and Chewie had spent hours tinkering with the code, trying to unravel it, but though they'd got as far as separating out two individual codes within the transmission, one complex, the other a more standard recognition code, they'd been unable to unravel the compound, self-writing cipher which took up most of the bandwidth of the transmission.

She was saved from further questions when the navi-computer pipped its first warning, and everyone rushed to the cockpit, the frequency loaded and ready to transmit.

"Coming up on reversion." Han said, hands resting on the sublights as Chewie toggled through systems, pulling up shields and diverting power to charge up the quads… just in case.

Leia licked dry lips as the blaze of lights reverted back to streaks then pinpoints of distant stars… and they dropped into realspace in the midst of a gas giant's system, whose one inhabitable moon glowed like an emerald in the inky darkness.

For a second, for a long, silent second, she didn't see it... then Leia felt her knees giving way as she fell back into the seat behind her in the same moment as Han half-rose from his own, voice low with disbelief, eyes focused not on the verdant moon, but in space above it…

"What the hell… is that what I think it is?"

The planet's name was Endor.

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	20. Chapter 20

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Leia stared, simply stared at the abomination which hung like death itself over the tiny, lush world, massive in scale, its metal-gray surfaces reflecting in dull, lifeless tones the burst of forest green from Endor's moon.

A thousand memories assaulted her; of Alderaan, of the moment, the _instant_ when everything she'd ever known was destroyed in a flash violent color and energy. Of Tarkin, smug and arrogant, proud of the carnage he'd unleashed, the massacre he'd committed in Palpatine's name.

Of her time in the small cell, metal gray, cold and stark… of Vader. Vader, with his machines and his malice and his cold, brutal demands.

And Luke. Luke, who'd released her; _"I'm here to rescue you."_

Luke, Vader's son, by his own admission. Palpatine's prodigy…

Chewie howled out his displeasure, furious, his voice filling the small space and dragging Leia back to the moment, surreal as it was.

Han slumped back down into his chair, shaking his head, "I know, I know… what the hell is this, why did he send us here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Leia said, voice laced with bitter disillusionment, "It's a threat. We do as we're told, or he uses this."

Han was shaking his head, "No, he doesn't work like that."

"Do you have another explanation?"

All Han could do was continue shaking his head, turning back to the behemoth.

Leia was pulling herself together now, angry that she'd actually begun to believe Luke, to trust him. Grief, what a fool she'd been, if only for a second. "Is it operational?"

Han turned to his boards, "Yeah, I think so. It has power and an internal atmosphere… it's pulling an awful lot of juice up from that moon though. Structural integrity, propulsion… this is… it's almost twice the mass of the original."

Leia glanced about, "The Star Destroyer?"

"Less than a thousand clicks, behind and above, you see it? The Spur."

Leia nodded, "Is it powering up?"

"No, leaving us alone. Must know we're here though, at this range." They were still gliding slowly forward, the massive Death Star looming ever larger in their field of view. Han paused, looking back to his boards, "Wait a minute… I'm not getting any lifesigns."

"On the Destroyer?"

"No, on that… thing. The Death Star's big brother. Breathable atmosphere but no lifesigns – none at all."

Chewie keened a question, and Han looked again to his boards, "No, it has shields up but they're defensive. I can get a scan on everything else, so..."

The console let out a loud pip, and Han leaned in slightly, "Uh-oh."

Leia was on her feet, "Uh-oh… what's uh-oh for?"

"I think we just tripped somethin'… hold on."

They waited long seconds, Leia's eyes flicking between the near-complete Death Star and the distant Destroyer as Han toggled through readouts, Chewie checking his own boards before leaning back to the ops boards behind him.

"Yep…. yeah, we definitely tripped something."

"That's _it_?!" Leia heard the panic in her own voice, "What did we trip?"

"That I don't know. I just keep gettin'–"

Chewie let out another long howl, and Han swung his chair about and stood to look into the reader.

"What is it?" Leia asked.

"That damn code is what it is." Han said, "That self-perpetuating code is transmitting to the Death Star, it's…"

Han fell to silence, staring, and Leia resisted the urge to shake him. Chewie too leaned in, whuffing a question.

"Uh-oh." Han repeated - and if possible, it sounded worse this time.

"Solo, if you say that again I swear I'll choke you."

"It's changed," Han said. "The code - it's counting down."

"From what?"

"I think we should be more worried about '_to_ what'." Han said, shouldering through the cramped cockpit and dropping back into his seat to bring the engines to full power, the Falcon rumbling beneath their feet.

"What do you mean?"

"In my experience, at the end of countdowns things generally go boom."

Leia glanced out to the Death Star, lost.

Han's console lit up a warning and he leaned in, voice tight as he read the message aloud. "It says, _'Two minutes to safe distance'_."

"Safe distance from what?"

"Well I can see three things in front of me sweetheart. I don't think that Death Star's firing on its own Star Destroyer, and it'd be pretty pointless for the Destroyer to fire on the Death Star… which leaves the Death Star and that moon."

Leia's heart skipped; she felt it miss a beat then boom in her chest. "Is it inhabited?"

Han was already checking his scopes, "No technology… teeming with life though."

Leia's hand came to her mouth, Alderaan's fiery death burning through her memories. "Can we stop it?"

"I'm looking," Han said. "I can't see any… it's powering up. Levels are off the scale."

"We have to do something!"

"Against that?! It has shields up, we wouldn't even get close – and if we did, what would we actually do?" Despite his words, Han was still flying towards it, the Death Star filling a quarter of the viewports now, its scale increasingly daunting.

"You can't let it fire… Han we have to do something."

"Find me something to do!"

Leia's eyes searched the dappled surface as her mind spun, searching for something, anything…

"Still waiting?"

"The exhaust port!"

"Don't know where it is, this Death Star's got shields up, and I'm guessing even Imperial designers wouldn't make _that_ mistake twice."

"Go for the dish."

"Seriously, you want me to shoot at the dish. In this? I may as well go out there and try kickin' it."

Still, the Falcon changed her course slightly, the colossal orb reeling in Leia's vision. "Aim for the dish's emittors."

"Leia, the ports are wider than the Falcon. I could fly down one of 'em."

"We have to _do_ _something_!"

The Falcon was arcing about now, the stars spinning as it turned, the massive Death Star trailing from the edge of the cockpit's line of vision as Han pushed for open space.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Leia stood, desperate.

Han was shaking his head, "Leia we can't, not this time. We can't even get to it in time, and now we're not gonna make safe distance as it is."

The Falcon powered away, everyone silent, the weight of her own helplesness pressing in against Leia, her breaths shallow, thoughts in turmoil. At the last moment, Han wheeled the freighter about, tiling all shields to front, everyone staring in mute, morbid fascination, unable to look away as the console pipped down the last seconds out loud from ten;

.

The blast was incredible, immense, whiting out the blackness of space in its expanding glare, everyone flinching back, the shockwave carrying still-burning debris out in a blazing glow, chunks the size of office blocks disintegrating as they burned the last of their oxygen, spinning apart in the fury of the flare, the Falcon rattling and bucking as the outer edge of the shockwave whipped past her, shields glowing momentarily.

When it was done, the last of the debris collapsing in on itself and glowing in the darkness, its energy spent, all three could only stare, shocked, at the tiny green moon that still hung before them, completely unharmed.

The Death Star was gone; destroyed, reduced to wreckage in the blink of an eye.

The relief was overwhelming, buzzing through Leia like a charge, so that for long seconds all she could do was hold her hands to her mouth and breathe.

It was Han who laughed aloud, shouting, whooping as he stood, "Yeah!" He whipped about, grabbing Leia and pulling her in for an exultant kiss, his relief infectious. "Why didn't I realize?! What the hell's wrong with me! He was showing us, Leia! He was showing you he had it, showing you he _could have_ used it. Showing you he never would!"

Chewie too was grinning, letting out an jubilant howl, long arms waving and punching the air, the relief of tension in the cramped cockpit incredible, han shouting to be heard. "We were transmitting the auto-destruct – that's why it was so damn complex! That's why it was tied up with the recognition code to get us safe conduct. It was for us – it was a message for us."

Leia sat slowly, the reprieve leaving her dizzy. A message; proof of his intentions, that was what he'd said. A gesture of good faith. Was it real? Grief, let it be real. Her head spun at the wildly-yawing change of events, doubts and hopes tangled together, her misgivings, her fears, the weight of her responsibilities weighing down on her, pressing in on that single, bright hope; that today she'd been talking to _Luke Skywalker_.

It was stupid of course; it was naïve and gullible and hopelessly credulous and every time she thought it, she had a hundred sound reasons to dismiss it…

…but oh, what if it was true?

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	21. Chapter 21

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**CHAPTER TEN**

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The ball was to be a lavish affair, as befitting a proclamation of such import – the public announcement of the Emperor's intended matrimony and the presentation of the future Empress. Invitations were like gold-dust, handed out to the select elite, those among the Moffs and the dignitaries who had received them preening at their own influence and eminence, the attending Royal Houses discreetly satisfied, gratified in their stately poise and pride, already approving on principle this most advantageous and significant event.

Rather less auspicious were the tentative coercions leading up to the event, when Luke had given Kiria a gift. Not out of any great attachment but simply because it seemed the right thing to do, now that everything was being formalized and announced.

"It's so very beautiful." Kiria had said, lifting it from the ornate gilt box, the refracted glow of many faceted stones catching across her caramel skin. "Absolutely exquisite. I adore it."

_You should, _Luke reflected privately_, you chose it._

Made to order based on requirements Kiria had left in advance with some in vogue jeweler of whose name she'd left hints both subtle and patent, it was ostentatious, extravagant and exclusive, as the woman herself was. It was also elegant, opulent and richly refined – as the woman herself was. The most exceptional stones had been pre-selected by Kiria, ready to be cut and set, and were now crusted together in dazzling brilliance, an impressive and spectacular display not only of her impending rank, Luke knew, but also of her status, that Kiria could ask for such an incredible, incomparable thing and be given it – by the Emperor himself.

She held it out to him and for a moment Luke hesitated, then took the heavy ruby-stoned necklace. Kiria turned about, her back to him as she stepped intimately nearer and lifted her glossy raven hair, and Luke lowered the exceptional necklace, fastening it about the curve of her neck, aware of her closeness and the scent on her skin.

She brought her hands up to touch it, voice tinged with laughter, "Cold."

"Stones always are," Luke said evenly.

"I love them anyway," Kiria smiled, "It's an exquisite gift, I'll treasure it." Luke lowered his hands but Kiria didn't immediately turn. "However, magnificent as it is, I'd swap it for another gift – one that cost not a credit."

"What's that?"

"Don't bring.. your usual bodyguard to the ball."

He was silent just a second too long. "You should have asked me a week ago."

She turned just slightly, hand still to the elaborate necklace, "Would you have granted it?"

"No. But at least you would have known it and had a week to come to terms with it."

Kiria turned and lifted one hand, making a subtle play of almost placing it to his chest and then refraining, "Oh but it's such a small thing to ask, surely?"

He had to smile; she was very, very good – maybe because she half-believed it and certainly genuinely wanted it. But she also knew full well what she was asking. "If it's so small, then why bother to ask?"

"Just tonight, surely?"

"And then the next time, and then the next time, and the next; I'm sure you'll find the reasons. I won't exclude a member of my entourage on your whim, not when I made it plain that it wouldn't happen."

"I'm not asking you to exclude her from your life – I never would."

"How very generous."

"But public functions… we surely need to present a proper front…"

Luke looked down, letting out a brief, soundless laugh before he lifted his head. She was still looking at him, expectant, imploring, gracefully persuasive… only not, because he knew with perfect clarity the flawless performance she gave.

"I thought I'd explained this, but clearly not, so I'll try again," he said tolerantly. "You're a clever, astute woman Kiria," A half-smile touched her lips, and Luke knew damn well it wouldn't be there when he'd finished, "and supremely manipulative… Don't be offended, I'm simply acknowledging a fellow player. As my Master once said, we recognize our own. So if you want to try to run your schemes and your little manipulations past me then fine, but let me be clear on this; Mara Jade is outside of your games – understand?"

Kiria hesitated, then tried a game smile, "I'm sure she's capable of taking care of hersel…"

"Oh she's very capable." Luke said confidently, "But that's not the point. The point is, I just said she's off-limits."

Kiria took a breath to speak, but Luke cut her off before she began. "No, this isn't a discussion. This is a statement of how things will be. If you find you're unable to comply, then now is the time to cut and run. You know the way out – close the door when you leave." He took a step back to clear her path, composed and self-possessed, "You can keep the necklace."

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Nathan caught up with Luke in the corridor of his apartments less than an hour later, his sense suspiciously cagey, "Hello."

Luke frowned warily, "What now?"

"I think I'm supposed to hold your attention until Reece has cornered you so you can't… ah, here he is."

"Excellency." Reece said as he came up on Luke's other side, automemo in hand. "I just wanted to discuss with you the final arrangement for the processional into the hall this evening."

"What do you mean procession?"

Reece looked to Nathan, who loosed his best '_you're on your own'_ shrug. "I told you not to call it that."

"I simply mean the order in which you will enter the hall, Excellency. This is after all the most formal of occasions." As he spoke, Reece indicated Luke's office with one hand.

"I think the order is that I put one foot in front of the other." Luke could hear his own Rim-world accent coming out in automatic reaction against what always seemed pointless protocol.

"Perhaps we should discuss this later," Reece said, pausing at the tall office doors.

"No, come on," Luke relented, sitting. "Tell me now then I'll be over it by the time it starts."

Reece sat, taking a long pause to look at his autoreader, "Your proce… your entrance time has been given as twenty-one hundred precisely. Everyone attending will already be in the hall, of course, including Lady D'Arca. You.."

"Wait, she doesn't come in with me?"

"No sir. You will however, proceed immediately towards her down the central aisle, where she will be waiting at its head, near the official dais."

Luke could feel himself gritting his teeth already against the comments that he was bursting to make. If Reece was too steeped in his task to notice thent he ever-perceptive Nathan certainly wasn't, turning his head casually to the side as he scratched his hair in a mock attempt to hide his words to Reece, "Hurry it up."

Nathan's words brought the ghost of a smile to Luke's lips at his own transparency, and bought Reece a few more minutes' grace.

"You should speak to no-one before her, and immediately take her hand to lead her in the first dance of the evening. In doing so, you will acknowledge her new status."

Luke let it hang a heartbeat. "You know what I'm gonna say, don't you?"

Reece stifled a sigh, "You're going to say can't we just send out cards to this effect."

"Yes I am."

"We did, Sir. This is the commemorative occasion to which you invited everyone who received such, in order to formally and publicly ratify your intentions."

Luke glanced once to Nathan, then shook his head slightly, unwilling to get dragged in. "Fine, okay. I actually have a bigger problem… it's protocol, kind of," he added to Reece, "you'll like it."

"Go on?"

"You need to have someone spot Kiria D'Arca and someone else – who's very, very good at it – spot Mara and make sure they don't come to blows."

"Wait, I thought you said Kiria was alright with Mara?" Nathan asked.

"That was yesterday." Luke said dryly, "Today she's not. Unfortunately that also coincides with us having… how many guests here?"

"Two thousand, Sir." Reece said distractedly.

"Two thousand," Luke said. "…excellent."

"As a matter of fact, I've already assigned Clem to you this evening." Reece said.

"That isn't the point. The point is that Mara _will_ be attending." Luke had no intention of caving to Kiria D'Arca this early in the game; Mara would come if he had to go over there and ask her himself. She'd received an official invitation of course, and remained the only guest who hadn't made a formal, written reply, though Luke had instructed Reece not to push the issue.

"Maybe she doesn't want to come." Nathan suggested.

Luke turned, "Oh she will when she hears this."

"Would it be completely out of order to suggest that the prudent path may be not to tell her then?"

"She's attending." Luke said definitively to Nathan. "In fact, she should be your dinner guest. You can spot her, can't you?"

"Me?" Nathan straightened. "You realize I'm scared of her, don't you?"

"You're not scared of anyone, Nath." Luke dismissed. "Look at it this way; you just get tonight – this is my life."

Nathan straightened slightly, impish amusement in his eyes. "How's this year's club membership coming along?"

"Fantastic," Luke deadpanned. "Really great."

"Actually I think it's a good idea." Reece said evenly, turning both men's eyes to him. "I think it's good for Commander Jade to step out of other people's concept of her as your bodyguard and into a more recognized, higher status public position such as Senior Aide, especially in consideration of her status in the line of succession."

Luke shook his head. "I'm not going to put Mara in the line of fire politically or physically by making the line of succession public."

"You don't have to make it public Sir, you never have done before. However, you'll be strengthening her hand if future events push her unexpectedly from her position as bodyguard. Who knows, she may well desire a more significant position in the near future anyway; even if not, its something I would recommend considering Jade's abilities. This could be a first step in that direction."

Luke narrowed his eyes just slightly before looking away, privately wondering at Reece's rare intervention on Mara's behalf, his sudden interest in her taking a more public station. "Fine. That's a plan then."

"Wait a minute," Nathan said quickly, "I haven't agreed. Everybody's organizing things to their own requirements behind my back!"

"Welcome to my life." Luke repeated, the slightest shade of knowing sarcasm in his voice.

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The levee was held in the Pageant Ballroom, one of the larger venues in the main Palace Monolith. Luke knew there were various theories for why the Emperor always used this particular ballroom when he intended to be present at a function, ranging from Mara's speculation that the pale sands and warm reds of the décor combined with the incredible stretch of the painted ceiling – a perfect representation of a clouded blue sky – reminded Luke of Tatooine, to the more common belief that it was his favourite because it was this ballroom which had been used on the day of the new Emperor's accession. But it was Nathan who'd guessed right, though Luke had never acknowledged it; the simple fact was that Luke had never once attended an event here during Palpatine's reign.

So now it was his favored venue for larger, more formal gatherings, where numbers would fill the vast three-storey hall, crowding onto the wide columned arcades which lined the walls of the second and third levels, or strolling the long cantilevered walkways at the second level, which seemed to defy gravity in hanging balanced over the ballroom below. To either end of the vast space grand staircases turned in wide, gentle curves, crossing at deeply-staged platforms, the space beneath each of the soaring stairwells given over to shallow mosaic-tiled pools, and between the colonnades to one wall, the vast run of the external Pageant balcony extended out along the front of the Palace, the long row of flags set above it constantly changed on an ever-rotating schedule to display the pennants of all the planets which comprised the far-reaching Empire.

Luke also secretly suspected it was on of his favorites for the simple reason that it had the most possible places in its staggered levels and many colonnades and balconies to hide away.

It was late spring, so the long bank of dark, mercury-glass balcony doors were opened wide onto the night, the slightest of breezes reaching in to cool the vast space, carrying the mingled murmur of many voices and languages with it; the eminent, the elite, the influential. In his years in the Palace, Luke had learned their names and their habits. Few he wished to know further. If he had his way, over half of them would be replaced within two years.

It went flawlessly; anything organized by Reece always did. Whatever his private machinations, he maintained the public face of both the Emperor and the Empire with dedicated, unswerving zeal… which left Luke to wonder all the more.

Kiria wore deep, ruby red vinesilk overlaid with gossamer layers of black lace so fine as to moiré in changing shadows against the ruby silk. The heavy, opulent necklace Luke had given her flashed vivid against her tawny skin, her dress set low on the graceful arc of her shoulders, a simple rose-gold circlet holding sleek sable hair in place, nothing intended do detract from the the elaborate magnificence - and just as importantly the significance - of the jewels at her throat.

She smiled genuinely as they danced, the perfect companion. "Am I pardoned?"

"For what?"

"For my request earlier. You'll forgive me; I can't help but fight my corner at times… but I realize this shouldn't have been one of them."

"Too soon." Luke said simply.

"Exactly what I thought." Kiria smiled conspiratorially – and Luke too had to smile at her openness.

"Is this a new tactic?"

"Yes… I've decided to try honest candor and blatant, undisguised persuasion… combined with captivating charm and natural charisma." She glanced up through long dark lashes, mischief in her eyes. "One should play to one's strengths after all. What do you think so far?"

"Ask me again in a month."

Kiria leaned back just slightly to look into Luke's face as they danced, the act arching the small of her back against his hand. "Now I don't know whether you're serious or not."

"What, losing control of the game?"

"Never!" She smiled irreverently. "Just making a few small modifications; this is simply a period of adjustment."

"Ah, always interesting." Luke felt the edge of a smile curl his lips unbidden, as ever drawn by her charm but hardly blinded by it.

"Is she here tonight?" she was better than to look round as she said it.

His smile melted away. "Yes."

"Will you speak to her?"

"Yes." Kiria held her eyes on him, and Luke raised his eyebrows briefly in a subtle shrug. "Just playing by your rules; blatant honesty."

"I said blatant persuasion."

"I think the title of Empress is that."

Kiria smiled again as she leaned closer to him, her dazzling smile made exceptional by the fact that she meant it. "Yes, it is."

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They remained together for a while, and Kiria was charming and elegant and captivating and all that she'd declared she would be. Spontaneously, effortlessly, sincerely. There was a certain ease in being around her, Luke felt. They each played the game and neither hid the fact from the other; there was an honesty to it, a freedom from the guilt that plagued him so often with others. This was manageable; this was workable, Luke reflected. They both know exactly where they stood, and as long as Kiria didn't try to shift the floor beneath his feet too often, Luke could deal with this; this strange, almost painfully candid deal which gained each what they wanted without the complications of any closer commitment.

He could do this, he really could…

The sense which whispered against his own lingered only a moment but it was enough to turn him about, knowing who stood to the wall a good distance away, forest-green eyes watching him.

The crowd parted and for an instant and Mara stood in isolation, fiery russet hair an unmistakable flare of color.

She wore a black gown… which didn't for a second do it justice. The top was a fitted jacket clasped tight at the waist in a knowing, unmistakably feminine nod to the formal black jackets worn by all the men here tonight. But Mara's flared daringly open down its deep-cut collar-line with the barest skim of black gauze beneath, tightly skimming the sweep of her slim hips. Heavy and sumptuous, it shimmered, incandescent in the low light, woven with tiny darkest green and black glass beads – nothing sparkling; Mara Jade didn't do glitz – but a subtle gleam, black on black, understated and restrained.

The lustrous black skirt traced a close-fitting line over her hips to flare out into unstructured folds, its hemline brushing the floor in the slightest of trains. Subtle highlights shifted with every move, the dull sheen of the heavy satin following precisely the line of her body as she straightened, setting her head just slightly to one side, the barest hint of an evocative smile catching her lips as she met Luke's eye. Then she turned deliberately away and disappeared into the crowds, Luke leaning back automatically to watch her, vaguely aware of Nathan trailing close behind.

And then she was gone… and Luke was left to smile at his own reaction – and at her knowledge of it.

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For Nathan, the night was not going so well. Mara had already managed to lose him three times on principle, and had skimmed close to Kiria D'Arca on countless occasions when Luke had been elsewhere, raising Nathan's heartrate to what, as a medic, he knew had to be unhealthy levels. There were probably less than a dozen people in the whole of the Empire who knew the complete truth about the little drama that was playing out tonight and of them all, Nathan wondered how _he_ had come to be in this position; he was hardly the consummate politician and equally unlikely to be able to control Mara Jade if she really wanted to pick a fight. Luke had claimed that it would be 'good practice', but for what Nathan didn't know. Presumably what it felt like to have an extended coronary.

Mara paused beneath the overhanging colonnades, glancing about the crowd with a professional eye. "I need a drink," she said without looking to him. "Do you need a drink?"

"Good grief, yes." Nathan said quickly.

"See what you can find," Mara said smoothly. "I'll have ansynthe or a grappa, just ice, no mixers."

Nathan made to go then paused as it hit him, "I'm not _that_ gullible."

Mara grinned, "Admit it – you almost went."

"That's a reflection of how much I need a drink, not of how easy it is to pull the wool over my eyes."

"Relax Nathan. If I were going to make a scene I'd have done it before now… about two months before, actually."

"Well one never quite knows with you." Nathan said wryly, fingering the uncomfortably high collar of his dress jacket.

"Thank-you. I try my best."

"You succeed."

Level height with the slight medic, Mara turned now to look him appraisingly in the eye. "We never really talk much, do we Nathan?"

"That's because you don't like me." Nathan said solicitously but without any offense.

"Not true," Mara said easily, eyes returning on the assembled dignitaries. "In fact, you're one of the few people who I actually trust around here."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. I know you try to do the right thing."

"Well thank-you."

"You don't often manage it, but you try." Mara added dryly.

"I like to think I keep the Emperor on the straight and narrow more than you know." Nathan said with quiet pride, rocking on his heels.

"Really? And which side of the straight and narrow do I fall?"

The medic seemed genuinely hurt that she would even ask, "I don't think I should dignify that with an answer." He managed a good ten seconds of silence before he turned back with his usual earnest sincerity, "Mara, Luke argued to have you attend tonight – in fact he insisted on it, despite… requests to the contrary."

Mara glanced back to the distant scarlet-clad figure of D'Arca, presently surrounded by a gaggle of ambitious career-climbers. They all laughed on cue, absurdly attentive, D'Arca clearly reveling in the attention; holding Court already, Mara reflected caustically.

She'd received a memo three days ago from one of D'Arca's aides, copied to all attending females, politely requesting in the most roundabout but unmistakable terms that no-one wear gowns in any shade of red for the levee. Words couldn't describe how tempted Mara had been to go out and buy one based solely on that message… in fact if she were the petty type, she would have loved to have put her considerable skills to the task of finding out what D'Arca was wearing and had an exact replica created in black – strictly speaking, she would have abided by the 'rules' by not wearing _red_...

"What?" Nathan asked into her thoughts.

"What?" Mara turned.

"I just wondered what you're smiling at?"

"Just thinking about D'Arca."

"A hundred and one ways to kill her?" Nathan joked.

"No," Mara smiled, "I had something far worse than that in mind."

"See, now you're making me nervous all over again."

"Oh don't worry, the moment for this one's passed."

"You're sure now?"

"Yes." She couldn't resist adding, after a heartbeat, "and if it wasn't, do you think I'd admit it to you?"

It hadn't exactly been a stretch to work out what was going on when Nathan had turned up at her door tonight sporting the kind of petrified expression that she normally associated with small animals in headlights. Privately, Mara had to admit that Nathan had been an inspired choice on Luke's part – though Nathan strongly denied any such strategy of course. Had it been some unknown, unshakably professional diplomat trying to tail her, it would just have egged Mara on and Luke had known it, but having Nathan trail her tonight like a little back-up conscience was a master move; doing anything with the fretful, overanxious medic in tow would be rather like kicking a big, brown-eyed puppy.

"You should probably know I handle stressful situations very badly," Nathan tried plaintively. "I hyperventilate… I also talk, non-stop."

"You always talk non-stop."

"I have a very stressful life."

"That's because you have an uncanny ability to say exactly the wrong thing at any given moment."

Nathan smiled disarmingly, voice laced with mock-injury. "I like to think of it as an uncanny ability to say the _right_ thing… just to the wrong people and at the wrong time."

Mara couldn't help but smile at that one, "I can go along with that."

Nathan turned to watch Mara for long seconds, in which time she studiously ignored him, attention on the primped and preened crowds. When he spoke there was genuine warmth in his voice, "Well this is nice."

"What?"

"This little heart-to-heart. I feel we're bonding here."

Mara turned, not sure whether to be offended or appalled, "We're not bonding Nathan – there's no bonding going on here. This is yet another perfect example of your saying the right thing to the wrong person at the wrong time."

Nathan only smiled, "In fact… would you like to dance?"

"Don't push it."

Nathan turned away again, for once amused rather than unsettled by Mara's usual brusque manner. In fact, this may well turn out to be a pleasant night. He searched the milling crowds, a riot of color and heady perfume. "I seem to have lost Luke – can you see him?"

"Well by now he's generally figuring that he's seen everyone he was obliged to see and made any covert little plays he intended, so I'm assuming he's lying low."

"Well I know that, I was just wondering where…. and when he was going to come back out."

"So is D'Arca," Mara said knowingly. "I've counted three people she's sent out looking for him now."

"How can you tell?"

Mara shrugged, "The way she pulls them close to tell them, the way they walk away, looking round, the fact that none have gone back to her yet, but they haven't left the ballroom."

"You know I forget sometimes what you do," Nathan said, impressed. "And how good you are at it."

"Well I wouldn't be very good at it if you didn't, would I?" Mara kept her gaze on D'Arca. "So what do you think of her – really?"

Nathan glanced through the crowd at the distant figure, engulfed by those seeking to court the prospective Empress. "She's very beautiful I suppose," he said. "She's intelligent and she's shrewd and she has a good head for the political…"

"You should probably stop speaking now." Mara said dryly.

Nathan hesitated for a second, "But I can tell you for a fact it's a business arrangement, nothing more."

"Maybe somebody should tell her that fact." Mara's eyes remained on that vibrant flash of scarlet silk. "Do you think she can be trusted?"

"Luke does – and I assume he would know."

"She's very… persuasive."

"I assume Palpatine was too, in a different way. You know Luke; he tends to walk his own path."

"It's not Luke I'm worried about."

"Worried?" Nathan teased lightly. "Mara Jade is _worried_?"

Mara turned to glare at him from the corner of her eye, "Remember that thing where you said you sometimes forgot that I was a trained assassin…"

"I do now." Nathan said, only half-joking. He paused for long seconds in consideration before adding, "Mara, I can look around this room and name two dozen political marriages, and that's just the ones I can see. That's how so many in the Royal Houses conduct their affairs and that's what D'Arca is to Luke."

"And what am I?"

"Right," Nathan replied without even thinking.

Mara wanted to hug the man. Instead she just humphed, and turned away in silence to stare into the crowds, wondering if the diminutive medic knew of his own understated abilities when it came to effortlessly smoothing the waters. "Took you a long time to decide that."

"Well, you know I'm the naturally cautious type." Nathan smiled.

"In fact, I think you once out and out threatened to remove me – permanently."

"Really?" Nathan brightened, "I'm impressed."

"With yourself?"

"Well, yes. I don't do threats very well. In fact, do you remember when we…"

"Let's not do reminiscences." Mara said without turning. Just because she like the man, that didn't mean she'd cut him any slack.

"I was just remembering the flag," Nathan continued regardless. "You remember the problems we had getting Luke to choose one?"

Mara let out another 'humph', remembering it well. She'd had to practically bully the typically stubborn Skywalker into even looking at the designs, then he'd promptly turned them all over to Nathan, having him choose one instead, much to Mara's simmering annoyance at the time. He always had known exactly how to push her buttons, she reflected wryly.

Abruptly she remembered the lorric willow, a wreath of which was on the chosen design of the flag which now flew over the Palace whenever Luke was in residence, as well as being painted as a coat of arms on many of the smaller ships which the new Emperor used –though he'd put his foot down at the suggestion that it should also grace the Patriot. Lorric willow wreaths were a traditional sign of royalty, originally used to crown rulers of the Teta system because they were said to encompass the aspects of great leadership; strength and flexibility which never broke under pressure. Still, at the time Luke had maintained that Palpatine had suggested the lorric willow as a private slight between himself and the Heir; a subtle allusion to the fact that that which was flexible was also pliable, and therefore compliant and obedient.

It was the kind of complex double-meaning powergame which even then, Luke had become used to spotting and dealing with on a daily basis – and to Mara's mind, had made him so capable of eventually stepping into the position of Emperor with such innate ease, holding the massive, diverse Empire together and his position intact against a multitude of opportunistic challengers who hoped to benefit from the instability of transition. No mater what Luke thought of Palpatine, he had, without a shadow of a doubt, prepared Luke for this position as no-one else could, and the fact that Luke knew it – that he utilized the lessons Palpatine had taught him on a daily basis – was a constant, needling irritation to him.

Still staring at Kiria D'Arca, Mara narrowed her eyes in consideration – because it _would_ be just like her old master to set something like this up; the man who had always regarded everyone around him, even his protegé and heir, as little more than pawns in the games of his choosing…

The splash of vibrant crimson which was all that was visible of D'Arca between her overly-attentive little clique set forward across the hall, lackeys in tow, and Mara looked quickly down from over Nathan's shoulder to catch his eye and his attention. "Say that again?"

"The flag – I was asking, do you remember the flag?"

"Actually, I do remember the whole flag debacle… but why don't you tell me your side of it?"

Confused at the sudden burst of amicable interest from the suspiciously-chatty Mara Jade, Nathan was still frowning and searching for the reason when it became horribly clear in the shape of a flash of bright scarlet at the edge of his vision. Eyes still on Mara, Nathan's face was completely mortified for long seconds before he recovered, dredging up a flustered smile as he turned to Kiria D'Arca, an unknown Moff stepping forward to do the honors.

"My lady, may I present Nathan Hallin, one of the Emperor's Senior Aides."

Nathan bowed politely, regaining some composure. "Forgive me, I find I always consider myself more in terms of my original role here. I'm the Emperor's physician."

Kiria smiled graciously, "The Emperor's physician – so may I assume that it's you who bears the burden of responsibility when others fail to adequately protect the Emperor?"

"No no," Nathan let out a little nervous laugh, realizing immediately who this conversation was actually aimed at. "No… no, no," he was aware that he was repeating himself, but seemed unable to stop. The sight of Mara straightening in the periphery of his vision gave him a serious incentive to move the conversation forward though. "In fact his Excellency has an excellent and dedicated team of professionals who look after him. They do a fantastic job."

"By and large I'm sure, but... I was under the impression that the Emperor was injured quite badly in an assassination attempt just a few years ago?"

"Well, um.." Nathan blinked several times. "Yes, but the Emperor's Own Guard generally deal with, diffuse and disrupt several such attempts every month."

"Ah," Kiria didn't for a second look away from Nathan. "That's most reassuring. But then one would imagine that in such an atmosphere of consummate professionalism, those who were less than exceptional – those who had perhaps failed in their duty in the past – would maintain their position here by the most slender of threads."

Nathan fingered at the high collar of his jacket again; it suddenly seemed phenomenally warm in here. Hoping to gain the momentum and steer the conversation to a safer topic, he tried again. "I don't believe I've offered my congratulations yet, Lady Kiria. You must be very pleased."

"Yes, it's good to be able to formally announce our relationship. Keeping such a thing quiet is so very testing…" Again Kiria's dark almond-eyes flashed momentarily to the side without once touching on Mara, "It becomes so very tiresome and places such stress on the participants. One would imagine such pressures easily breaking such a relationship down in time."

"Ah…" again Nathan floundered, but Kiria pushed forward as if she hadn't noticed.

"I thought you'd attend with Commander Reece tonight, Commander Hallin."

"Well you know, never off-duty," Nathan smiled – then glanced quickly to Mara. "Not that coming with Commander Jade tonight was in any way, shape or form any kind of duty or chore!"

Mara barely spared him a glance, narrowed eyes remaining on Kiria.

Nathan blinked for long, lost seconds in the still silence before trying again, searching for a safer topic. "The um.. your necklace is stunning, Lady Kiria…"

Mara too looked to the magnificent necklace, speaking out for the first time. "Yes, that's very… ostentatious."

Nathan coughed nervously, "It was a gift, I understand?"

Kiria's chin rose a fraction though she didn't acknowledge Mara's words. "Yes, a gift… the Emperor knows me very well."

"Yes," Mara nodded, "yes he does."

Nathan was beginning to notice that several of the closer Courtiers had now begun to drift uneasily away and couldn't help but envy them. Kiria's eyes remained on Nathan as she again ignored Mara's words, bringing one perfectly-manicured hand up to touch the heavy, faceted stones.

"They're beautifully matched, don't you agree? It's so very rare to find matching stones of this exceptional size and quality."

"You know I was thinking…" Mara said casually, her tone making Nathan sweat, "Someone once made what they clearly believed was a very sharp observation about jewels and trinkets, and their relative values. But you see sometimes trinkets can be worth more than all the jewels you can hang round your neck."

Kiria finally turned to Mara, a perfect smile remaining on her delicate oval face, almond eyes cool. "For a moment perhaps, Commander Jade. But as you can see, novelties cannot replace significance. The Emperor's incomparable gift illustrates his appreciation of that."

"But you see I know the Emperor so very well," Mara glanced dismissively at the heavily encrusted necklace at Kiria's neck, "and precious stones mean very little to him… however polished they are."

"I believe you underestimate the Emperor's acumen in such things Commander Jade. I'm sure His Excellency is well aware that stones of equal value and consequence always compliment and enhance each-other. A perfectly-matched arrangement cannot be replaced by a decorative trinket – it would be tantamount to replacing logic with folly, and that's simply not in his nature."

"I think you may be confusing your own opinions with the Emperor's – perhaps you don't know him quite as well as you think," Mara said coolly. Surprisingly, D'Arca wasn't there with some instant, acerbic come-back – though aside from lowering her voice, it didn't inspire the same restraint in Mara. "And speaking of blinkered and biased opinions, you once accused me of being a resource to fill a temporary requirement in Palpatine's eyes. Well I've been thinking… and tonight it occurred to me that I also knew Palpatine far, _far_ better than you ever could. And I have news for you; you were the same. You're here because you fulfill a need, a niche – a temporary requirement. Me, I probably am now surplus to those requirements as you said, but – and here's the other thing I realized – I'm still around. I'm still here, for no other reason than by the Emperor's wish. I have been for a very long time." Mara paused, to give gravity to her next words, "That's the thing about trinkets; they always know their value, because it's whatever others place on them. Those big, cold, sparkling jewels… well they'll never know whether they have any true worth or whether they're simply kept because of their incidental value – and if they'll be discarded as soon as that value is spent."

In the taut pause that followed, Mara held the initiative by nodding her head in a polite if minimal bow, "You'll excuse me, my Lady. The evening's almost gone already… sometimes time seems to fly, and I wouldn't wish to intrude on your moment in the spotlight."

She walked coolly away, leaving Nathan to stare at the floor for long seconds. Finally Kiria turned to him and he found his voice, lifting his hand to point hesitantly at Mara's receding form as he backed up, "Um… I should… excuse me."

.

.

It was almost midnight when Mara finally spotted Clem stood to loose attention just inside of one of the smaller, more secluded balcony doors and loosed a private smile; one more thing that Kiria D'Arca knew in theory but not in practice was the unique protocol which surrounded Luke; the Emperor's habits and how those close to him reacted to them. Clem being alone at the half-closed balcony door meant one thing; Luke was on the balcony… and if Clem was looking _into_ the ballroom rather than out onto the balcony, then Luke was alone.

For a scarlet second as she drew close, Mara worried that Clem might stop her from walking onto the balcony as he would most others, but in the moment he simply nodded briefly then turned his eyes back to the crowds. Nathan too slowed as he reached the doors, remaining discretely at the threshold.

She walked into the sultry, balmy night and knew instantly why Luke had retreated here; he loved the heat, even when it was as close as this. Mara paused in the half-light between the ballroom and the shadows Luke stood among, and he turned immediately, straightening as he let out a long sigh. She smiled now as she stepped forward, Luke's dark clothes rendering him almost lost among the shadows.

He wore a flawlessly-tailored dress suit in black serge, the dark enameled perennium buckle of the belt to which his lightsaber was attached a subtle gleam below his short, fitted jacket. A wide, wine-red _riband_ sash over his right shoulder had one of the only two insignia of rank Luke ever wore in public, despite Reece's constant attempts to add more; the six-pointed Imperial Order and, at the high, cream-piped neck of his jacket, the Order of the Star.

Despite the fact that they were both definitive, elite Orders patronized by and awarded at the discretion of the Emperor, Mara always suspected that Luke selected them for rather more specific, if less than regal reasons; the Imperial Order was enameled a dark ruby red, and the Order of the Star was faceted jet inlaid on black perennium, which meant that the red Order medal became almost invisible against the red riband sash and the black Order of the Star was absorbed into the black of Luke's dress jacket, both so subtle as to be barely-visible from a few paces back. He played the game, but as ever it was on his terms.

"Congratulations." She didn't mean to have her first word come out quite as hard or as cutting as it did.

"You look beautiful," he said, ignoring the remark completely.

"It's the dress."

"No it's not." Luke said simply, and Mara felt the heated buzz in the pit of her stomach spread slowly to her lips in a warm smile.

"Don't ruin my irritable mood. I've spent a long time nursing it today." Mara set forward to lean on the balcony, eyes roving the hazy glow of the cityscape, and sensed him turn to do the same. "It's too hot out here."

"I like the warmth."

Mara smiled without turning, "You'd go back to your damn desert tomorrow, wouldn't you?"

"No, I really wouldn't."

"But you'd walk out of here."

He paused a long time and when he spoke his voice thoughtful, as if examining his own answer. "No… I really wouldn't."

She turned to him and, realizing he was under scrutiny, Luke glanced to her then out toward the ever-changing streams of light which wove endlessly among the lofty, illuminated structures. "I like the city at night. It looks so much more appealing than the plain light of day."

It was hardly a subtle avoidance – but then most people would have taken the hint, Mara knew. She wasn't one of them. "How're you holding up?"

"It's actually harder than I thought it would be," he said with absolute calm. "It wasn't… then I saw you."

"I watched you dance." Mara fought to keep her tone light. She waited a heartbeat, then added, "You make a terrible couple, you know; she's too short for you."

"Thanks." Luke said dryly.

"Maybe I should go tell her." Mara said blithely.

Luke smiled slightly, his tone lightening. "Don't you dare. Besides, I thought you'd had your little spat for tonight."

"We have," Mara smiled. "And we didn't even make a scene – aren't we good?"

"Good would have been not to have the spat."

"No, I think that would have been just plain unrealistic," Mara countered. "Maybe you shouldn't have invited me."

"I would never do that, Red." Luke smiled without turning, "Not when it gives me the opportunity to see you looking this good."

"See it _is_ just the dress." Mara smiled.

"No," he repeated categorically. "But that's definitely _not_ standard Palace issue."

"Maybe it should be."

Luke tilted his head, "I'm not sure Clem could pull that off… not and wear his usual arsenal."

"Hey, I'm carrying a blaster," Mara said with feigned offence, "and a vibroblade."

"Really, where?"

Luke took a step closer but Mara pulled the rustling, lustrous fabric back in mock anger. "Hey, hands off the expensive dress Skywalker."

He grinned, and in the low light, despite his scars he looked very much the indomitable young pilot who had arrived here full of attitude and indignation. Taken by the moment, Mara stepped forward to kiss him, but Luke backstepped quickly, glancing to the part-open balcony doors. She stopped, frowning.

"Breaking the rules?" she bit sarcastically.

"Here, tonight – yes," he said simply.

"Well how very crude and uncouth of me," Mara growled. "Maybe I'm not sophisticated and urbane enough for your little games any more."

"Why do you always make this so very difficult?"

"Me? I'm not the one marrying some conceited little blue-blood to cement my position."

"You _wanted_ me to be Emperor – you wanted this. Remember that."

It was an old accusation, leveled at her more than once, and every time Mara wondered at it – that he could somehow not have wanted this for himself; not have seen it as the ultimate goal.

She looked back to the brightly-lit ballroom, then turned to meet his eyes, holding his gaze for long seconds as she carefully considered her next words. "I'm going to ask you this one last time, then I'm never going to mention it again… are you _sure_ this is the only way to gain what you need?"

Luke sighed, looking down. It was rare that he avoided her eyes, Mara knew.

"I've tried to think of another way to gain all that this does for the last nine months and wasted time I could have invested in moving forward. I can't name one other way to gain this – not in the timescale I need. Even this may not work."

"What exactly do you need?"

"The co-operation of the Royal Houses."

"You have that!"

"No, I have their tolerance. I have their compliance."

"That's all you need and you know it. That's all you've ever had and your reign hasn't suffered for it." Mara could hear the edge of her tightly-controlled frustration leaking through. "You can hold the Empire easily without Kiria D'Arca."

"Yes I can – Palpatine's Empire. I can stand at the head of _Palpatine's_ Empire. Not mine, his… and I won't do that."

"And what do you intend to do that's so very different that you need the D'Arca's to…" Mara paused, realization of her casually thrown out words filtering through into her own thoughts_; "so very different…"_

Her voice dropped, suddenly very serious, memories of his outburst on Hosk Station coming sharply to mind, a tremor sliding up her spine. "What are you going to do Luke?"

He glanced away, voice quiet, for her alone. "Did you really think I'd give Palpatine his dynasty Mara… ever, for one second?"

"What are you going to do?" Mara repeated, her voice a breathless whisper.

He shook his head, "I wish I could tell you Red."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I think you'd disapprove."

"Of all the things you've done, suddenly now you're worried about my disapproving." Mara observed dryly. "Maybe if you just got it over with and told me, you might be surprised – I might even be able to help you."

"That's a good point," Luke said easily. "I'll think on that."

"No you won't!" Mara almost laughed. "You won't think about it for one second. You don't have to do it all alone, Luke."

"Yes I do. Right now, everyone's safe. If this all goes wrong, you can stand in any Court and take any test and say with your hand on your heart that you knew nothing. That I was acting alone."

"I don't need your protection."

"I know that. But I have to do it this way anyway, otherwise I'll never sleep at night."

"You never sleep anyway." Her frustration was laced with humor now, at his enduring protective streak.

He smiled wryly, "Again, a good point. I'll think on it tonight…"

"I know - when you should be sleeping. You know you are, without a doubt, the most single-minded, stubborn, irritating, frustrating, infuriating person I have ever met."

"But?"

"I don't know if there is a but yet."

He shook his head, indulgent, but she could see that brittle edge as close to the surface as ever, and felt her heart go out to him. He was trying so hard to be what he knew he needed to be, what he knew the aristocrats and the diplomats and the military expected him to be. What he knew would hold the Empire together and hold them at bay whilst he dragged it forward by strength of will to some unnamed plan. "Why can't you tell me – do you trust me so little?"

Luke looked down, rubbing at the bridge of his nose then glancing back to the bright lights of the ballroom, "I can't do this now, Mara."

Her breath left her in a low sigh, because once again it all came back down to this; he took her everywhere, risked so much and probably complicated his life and his plans by a factor of ten by keeping her close – but he still didn't trust her.

"I wish I could go back to that day." The words came out in a low, defeated murmur.

Luke shook his head, "It was my fault, not yours."

"No, it was Palpatine's." Had she said that – had she blamed her old master outright? It was the first time she'd ever openly questioned Palpatine in anything.

"No. I shouldn't have left you there – it was my fault."

"Then why can't you trust me?"

He shook his head in defeated silence and she sighed again, realizing that he was trying just as hard to be what she wanted too; trying somehow to shoehorn her own expectations in with those of the military and the Royal Houses and the greater picture. Trying to be everything for everybody… because she'd asked this of him. Because she'd asked him to stay. Was it that which he couldn't forgive her for – was it that which truly stood between them?

She sighed, smiling gently at him, knowing he'd see despite the heavy shadows which concealed them both. The distant strains of the formal music reminded Mara of that night long ago in some other ballroom, celebrating the launch of the Patriot under Palpatine's ever-watchful eye, when they'd stood inches and yet chasms apart, just as bound by outside obligations and responsibilities as they were tonight, and Mara had whispered quietly beneath the music, _"Dance with me tonight – alone?"_

She spoke out now on impulse, "Da–"

"Don't. Don't ask." He brought his hand up, rubbing it slowly across his eyes, "Don't make this any harder."

"You didn't read what I was going to ask." She knew she'd been shielding her thoughts – how could she not, tonight?

"I don't need to. Do you think after all this time I don't know you Mara – do you think I wouldn't know anyway?" He sighed, head down. "This is so hard Mara. This is so phenomenally hard and every single time I look at you it makes it harder. But I have to do this – I _have to_ do this."

She studied him in the darkness, the tense set of his jaw, the tight line of his shoulders, the frown which pulled that heavy scar into a crescent, creasing into the lines of worry about his eyes. "You do what you have to Mara – whatever it is, I understand… but I have to do this."

'_Do what you have to_'. Didn't he know – if he knew her so well, didn't he know by now? Without thinking, she'd moved towards him in the darkness, lifting her arms to wrap about him as she leaned in close, feeling in that moment as his arms wrapped about her that this was more than enough.

The minutes stretched as they stood still and silent in each other's arms, hidden by the dark of the night, the music soft and distant, and Mara had no idea if this was acceptance or goodbye on either of their parts. Then slowly, she felt Luke take her hand and lift it out, sliding his other hand about her waist. Gently, he began to move to the rhythm of the faint music, taking her with him. Deeply touched, Mara melted to him, resting her head on his shoulder, hugging him closely to her, feeling him relax as he rested his cheek against her hair.

They danced together for a long time in the darkness.

.

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	22. Chapter 22

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**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

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Luke was in his office before dawn the following morning, Reece entering with dispatches when the working day began a few hours later, as he generally did as soon as they were available.

"Good morning Excellency; dispatches. Also your…" Reece had the good sense to stop himself before he even tried to go any further, "the Lady Kiria has sent her compliments this morning and has requested an audience… lunch perhaps?"

Luke didn't look up, "Send her my compliments and my apologies. Redirect her to the social secretary and have him make an appointment at some point."

Reece hesitated, "I thought perhaps considering her station, certain concessions could be made."

"Fine; make it this week."

"… I envisioned larger concessions than that, Sir." Reece said dryly.

"I think we've made enough concessions to Lady Kiria at the moment." Luke's eyes and his attention were on his work as he slotted the new data chip into his reader. He was aware of Wez's continued presence but didn't look up, instead watching his Aide's reflection in the polished surface of his desk as Wez licked his lips before continuing.

"Incidentally, I did have a question regarding the final wording on the D'Arca agreement," Reece added casually. "I noted that Lady Kiria is to be acknowledged as Empress Consort and wondered if you wished me to amend that."

"Amend it why?"

Reece hesitated a second, "I simply wondered whether such a clause was necessary. Since Lady Kiria isn't listed in the line of succession, it would seem a tad petty to…"

"You want me to remove a clause that clarifies the future line of succession of an Empire for fear of it seeming a tad petty?" Luke didn't look up, voice calm and distant, as if only half-interested in the discussion.

"No Sir..."

"Because I was under the impression that acknowledging Kiria D'Arca as Empress Regnant would also acknowledge her as potential ruler in my absence."

Wez hesitated, clearly surprised that Luke would have the knowledge of such conventions, unaware that it was his own actions that were forcing Luke to learn such self-reliance. "…That is correct Sir… however, if Lady Kiria is not listed in the official line of succession–"

"Assuming that documents pertaining to the official line of succession were to become available should it be necessary."

"… I cannot imagine why they would not."

"Neither can I – but then I can't imagine why this point is so relevant that you'd bother to bring it up right now."

"In regard to that Sir, I did mean to point out that I tried to access the succession documents this morning in relation to the D'Arca agreement and they seem to have been removed from the private access hub."

"I've locked the documents," Luke said simply as he glanced up at last, aware that Wez had neatly sidestepped answering. He gave a reassuring half-smile though, projecting subtle reassurance out into the Force. "Nothing has changed Wez – they're still on the coded hub in my Cabinet office. I've just decided to take them off the private access hub – it has too many people able to retrieve it."

"There are twelve people able to access that hub, sir."

"I consider that too many. The documents remain on the Cabinet office hub, so they can still be accessed when needed." The hub in Luke's office within the Cabinet was the most secure of all data bases. With no access point save from the desk within Luke's office, it was DNA coded to just six people aside from Luke, requiring three of those six separate codes to access it without Luke's permission, effectively meaning that if Luke were not present, this most comprehensive data base could only be unlocked with the consent of three of the six members of his inner Council. Even then, there were countless codes to access individual documents, the passwords for which Luke handed out with careful care as to who would conceivably use or abuse them if they were unlocked on his death – as ever, even in his absence his old Master's guarded habits dictated Luke's actions, a fact that continually irked him, though never quite enough that he was prepared to abandon logic simply to flaunt them. It irked him even more that his old Master was right; Wez Reece, a former ally who had the gall to stand calmly in front of Luke right now and believe he could lie to a Sith was proof of that.

Finally, it irked him one last time that thanks to his old Master, he was equally capable of the same, meeting Wez's gaze with equal empty amity and composure. "Is there anything else?"

He sensed Reece brace, and realized that this little aside wasn't the reason that the man had entered.

"Dispatches this morning Sir; I was checking through and came across a communiqué from Captain Tolemy of the SSD Spur. It was a coded transmission and I don't appear to have the decrypt. I tried to clarify the situation with Captain Tolemy but was informed that the communiqué was confidential."

There was the barest hint of a question behind Wez's tone, but Luke remained silent, eyes back on his despatch notes as he pulled up Tolemy's report, seeking reassurances that the sanctuary moon was unharmed by debris and radioactive fallout. No damage sustained; the shield generators originally designed to protect the Death Star had successfully been the inverted and phased by the specialist detachment Luke had installed onboard the Spur. Though Luke had never once set foot on the surface of the verdant, blue-green Endor, every night as he'd slept onboard the monstrosity that his old Master had delighted in building, he'd sensed the vibrant rush and swell of life from the fragile moon, a burst of mental color seeping through the endless leaden gray of Palpatine's new toy.

Reece waited, eyes on the Emperor, looking for some kind of reaction as he studied the report. None was forthcoming, but Wez was familiar enough with his Emperor that he wouldn't be so easily derailed by silence, and so tried again. "What seems odd is that the Spur is currently well outside of its mission route parameters – almost two lightyears from Endor. When I questioned the Captain on his position, he informed me again that he was under instruction from a higher authority and couldn't make comment."

Finally Luke looked up, aware of the fact that his bluff had been called; the only higher authority than Wez was the Emperor himself.

"Captain Tolemy was operating under my instructions. The report he's returned is to confirm that Project Redress has been destroyed. That's why he was no longer in orbit around Endor." There was little point in trying to hide this from Wez; in spite his recent actions, he remained in his privileged position by Luke's choice, and much as unseen restrictions had been placed, Wez still had access to high-level Fleet information, something Luke had allowed because despite Mara's misgivings, he still believed absolutely that Wez would act in the Empire's best interests – and he still hoped privately that he could turn Wez from his present course.

But if the man _was_ intending to betray Luke, he would rather have it out and dealt with now than have it fester. Wez was living on borrowed time, allowed him because of their past history and because Luke didn't want to be seen to turn on his own Senior Aide without tangible proof that others in his Cabinet – especially Nathan – could understand. Mara thought he was crazy of course, and privately there were moments when Luke agreed with her but still, if he could, Luke wanted to pull Wez back from what was so far a few isolated indiscretions, and he couldn't and wouldn't do that by outright lying to his primary Aide; Wez was too smart and Luke was too stubborn for that.

The man blinked now, fighting to hold his composure. "Project Redress is… is this confirmed? How did it happen – and why isn't Captain Tolemy here to answer to his failure in person?"

"It happened at my command, which was followed to the letter by Captain Tolemy. Project redress had fulfilled its requirements and was little more than a drain on Imperial resources.

"You _ordered_ the second Death Star destroyed?"

"For my reasons and to fulfil a greater plan, yes. I gave it to the rebellion – or rather, I gave the co-ordinates to Leia Organa at our last meeting."

Wez looked down for long seconds, and Luke knew the man was trying to hold his temper. "To gain what?"

"Trust."

"You gave her the co-ordinates of Project Redress… what if the rebellion had turned up in force? What if they had commandeered it, completed it?"

"That was never an option. I told her when I gave her the co-ordinates that she could tell no-one and I… trusted her to hold to that. I've said before, I know her; I know how she'll act and that she'd uphold a trust placed in her personally, even from me, so she'd go alone. Within the safe-passage transmission that I gave her for entry to the area was the Death Star's self-destruct code. Even if they'd separated it and only used the safe-entry code, it would have alerted Captain Tolemy, who would have passed the fact on immediately as ordered, and I would have triggered the self-destruct directly from Coruscant. There was never any question of them trying to return and take control of Project Redress. It was always intended as a gesture of good faith, not a gift to keep and certainly not one they would ever have the opportunity to use against us."

"You _gave_ them the one thing that could have effectively removed them?"

"It could never have done that, it just appeared to have that potential. That's why I gave it to her – because she would see that danger too."

"The Death Star had massive potential…"

"No it didn't." Luke kept his voice firm but without enmity. He'd been judged in the past on his own actions without all the facts; had those around him come to premature conclusions. He wouldn't do to Wez what he himself had endured at the hands of others; wouldn't call those who had done it to him whilst he was doing the same. "It could never be anything other than it was, Reece – an overblown relic that would only ever incite more insurgence. Another one of Palpatine's indulgent, self-gratifying schemes that could never be what he blindly believed."

"It could have worked as part of a greater plan."

"And it did. It was pivotal… as part of a greater plan. Now we move on – we build on what the Death Star gained us. We're taking the wind out of the rebellion's sails by stealing their thunder a piece at a time; by negating the tenets on which they fight as part of a bigger plan, part of the long-term scheme. You know that. We can pretty much force Leia Organa and her insurrection into an untenable position by enacting some of the constitutional freedoms they're fighting for. On our own terms and to our own schedule. We put these changes in place and the Rebel Alliance becomes nothing more than a marginalized, redundant guerilla force which will hold no sympathy with the general populace. I always told you that I'd do this – that I'd take their support a piece at a time if I had to."

Wez raised his chin, "What I don't recall is your assuring me that any of these gratuitous allowances already placed in the constitution would be retracted at a future point."

Luke hesitated; did he do this? If he told Wez the truth, was he inspiring trust or simply pushing him further away? In the end, it didn't really matter – because Wez deserved that opportunity to redeem himself; Luke owed him that. After all that he'd accused others of, now that he found himself in the same position with one of his own and he didn't want to look back and question his response. Whether Wez stood or fell, it should be on the truth.

"If we hold our rule and maintain order, then why would retractions be necessary?"

Wez remained silent, lips pursed to a narrow line.

"Wez, the Empire as it stands is unsustainable. Anything that needs a massive military to keep it in power is basically untenable. You know that."

"The Empire ended a civil war and has held the peace for almost three decades..."

"Yes. But times change, and Palpatine wouldn't let his Empire change with them. It's time to correct that."

Wez's eyes hardened, "Tell me you don't intend to make a deal with the rebellion?"

"As it stands, no. Never. I have very specific requirements of the Alliance before talks could even begin to be considered – and always on my terms."

_The Alliance; not the rebellion, the Alliance._ A slip of the tongue, or an inadvertent admission? Had that been the truth all along, Wez wondered? Despite everything, had Skywalker always been in some way sympathetic to the rebellion at heart?

"I see." Wez said in monotone, nodding his head slowly.

"You disagree."

"You never said that this was your intent before."

"I said that my intent was to remove the rebellion and stabilize the Empire. It still is."

"I question your methods Excellency, not your motives."

"I'm not dissolving the Empire, Wez, nor am I handing it over to the rebellion – I would never do that. You said yourself we need to move forward – this is how we do it."

"Making a deal with the rebellion will not– "

"I haven't said I'll make any deal with the rebellion."

"Yet you're speaking with Leia Organa."

"For my own reasons and to my own ends – ends I've just explained to you."

"If you believed that it would stabilize your Empire, Excellency… would you negotiate with them?"

'_If you believed'_… in other words, _'however erroneously'_; Luke could almost hear Wez say it. "I won't allow them to continue in their present form Wez. What I'm doing now will ensure that, one way or another. And no, I have no qualms about bringing force to bear if…"

Luke stopped, and Wez knew his error; _if_

"Tell me again Excellency, that you don't intend to make a deal with them."

Luke raised his chin, refusing to give. "I'll tell you again what I've just said; in their present form, no. Absolutely not." Wez sighed, looking down, clearly unconvinced, so Luke tried again. "I know that you want to do what you think is right for the Empire Wez… I'm confused as to why you suddenly don't believe I think the same."

"Do you?"

"I will _never_ hand the Empire over to the Rebel Alliance – to do that would be consigning it into civil war and I'll _never_ do that. I will never sign or be any part of any treaty which breaks this Empire up or feeds those who would do the same. There is no question of that. But the rebellion cannot be beaten." Wez lifted his chin, but Luke pressed on, hand opening before him. "No. By its very nature it can't be proscribed, and it can't be removed because it will always spring back in some form. As long as people feel they have no voice, they'll rebel, as long as people feel they have no options, they'll fight. I could destroy every last member of every faction tomorrow – and believe me, it's a tempting proposition – but they would be back in greater numbers within a year. New people with those same ideals, people who believe the only option left to them is insurrection. How do I deal with that – you tell me?"

"The military…"

"What? I've said before, give me a target and I'll give the order. They're scattered, broken down into small units; I know, I know exactly how they fight."

"You could draw them out; draw them into the open, lure them into a single action."

"And afterwards, when the next wave forms and they shout out the names of the supposed martyrs we've created?"

Wez stiffened, "We do it again."

"And again, and again. It's not an answer; it's not even a postponement - if anything, it's an escalation. Give me a _solution_ Wez – because I don't have one other than the path I'm taking. I'm trying to hold the Empire together, I'm trying to take it forward. I'm trying hard not to consign a third of its citizens to death as traitors when all they want is a fair constitution. I'm trying to make the Empire all it could be; to realize the potential that everyone saw when the Clone Wars ended. And I need you with me to do that – I need your vision and I need your ability and I need your belief."

In so many ways Wez knew he was looking at – arguing with – the perfect Emperor; Skywalker was sharp and he was shrewd and he was persuasive; he had a long-term vision and he had the resolve and the drive and the pragmatism to find or create a way to bring that vision to fruition. But in others he was far, _far_ too moderate. Wez had never truly approved of the excessive relaxation of existing laws which had served the Empire well for decades and Skywalker knew it, despite the obvious benefits they'd brought in rooting out opponents and detractors. The revamp of the legal system he could understand on those terms, but the equality statutes and free speech had been grossly unwarranted and so very carefully placed; too meticulously considered and perfectly-worded to ever have been a temporary charade; he should have seen that at the time. In fact he had – but persuasive as ever, Skywalker had put forward a hundred reasonable, rational motives to support them – and Wez had let it pass… and let it pass, and let it pass.

He nodded just once now, eyes down, "You have my loyalty, Sir, and my support. You always did."

The Emperor loosed a long, low sigh, and Wez wondered for a fraction of a second if he had _seen_ the truth within the Force, but Saté Pestage had always assured him that Skywalker would find him unreadable, and Skywalker himself had often assured Wez of the same if Wez were ever to need to face Palpatine.

Now the new Emperor spoke quietly, "I value both – more than you realize, I think."

"Thank-you, Sir," Wez backed to the door. "If you'll excuse me?"

Skywalker nodded, and Wez backstepped. His last glimpse of the Emperor as the heavy doors separated them was of those distinctive mismatched eyes, disconcerting in their piercing intensity.

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Wez turned and walked swiftly down the wide corridor, heading for his own office within the Cabinet, slapping the door closure before he was through and leaning back to rest against the sealed doors, eyes closed, breath short.

So there it was – only not; a complete explanation without a single fact, as only the Emperor could do. Another sermon to reassure the faithful, a way to break it to Wez gently that the single most effective means to remove the rebellion had been destroyed – by the Emperor's own command, no less!

He knew – he _knew_ that something was going on the moment he couldn't get that damn information from Tolemy; it wasn't part of the Spur's general remit to be out that far. He'd tried to get more out of the Destroyer Captain, but Tolemy was completely loyal to the Emperor and would of course stick by his order to speak to no-one, issued by the Emperor himself.

Tolemy was an unwavering backer of the new Emperor and as soon as he'd been given the remit of protecting it, had been a discreet detractor of the Death Star, viewing it as the Emperor did as an oversized relic of Palpatine's reign, a clumsy dinosaur at odds with the swift, reaction-oriented fleet which the new Emperor maintained. That he'd been given the duty of protecting it had seemed strange to Reece at the time, though he hadn't for a moment considered this possibility.

He should have known – he should have _known!_ Skywalker had showed no interest in the Death Star since Palpatine's death, maintaining its confidentiality but having all work suspended and basically abandoning the massive battle station by relegating it to 'standby' status, leaving the unrivalled military structure that he had helped to build guarded but disused, destined to redundancy without once having fired a single blast. Wez _knew_ how much Skywalker had always hated Palpatine's opus, referring to it often as the old Emperor's folly, but this… this was outrageous in the extreme. This was a weapon that could have ended the rebellion in no uncertain terms. Skywalker had never thought so – had said as much to Palpatine more than once – but Wez knew him; if he'd wanted to elevate the Death Star to active service he would have found a way. Would have dovetailed it neatly into other plans, as he did so much else. If he hadn't then it was by choice – everything that he did was by choice. Everything.

Yes, the Death Star had been brazenly overstated, an excessive monument to Palpatine's exaggerated hyperbole, but Skywalker could have made it work as the vanguard of the fleet. It exemplified the power and the means and the resolve of the old Empire, and knowing the Emperor as he did, knowing his constant balance between integrity and intimidation, between honesty and insinuation, between threat and compromise, Skywalker _could have_ made it work.

He had _chosen_ not to – had chosen to abandon the tenets of the true Empire and pursue his own ends. Because of Skywalker, this was not the Empire Wez had wanted, not the path he had intended, and now… now he had all but admitted that the 'fraudulent' dialogue with Organa and therefore her rebellion was genuine – maybe even a prelude to legitimate talks!

Wez shook his head as he leaned back against the tall doors… because this was it. This was the point past which he could not and would not follow the Emperor.

He was becoming too lenient. Too progressive. It was time to set the Empire back on course. The method to achieve such was extreme – but then, one could not use half-measures in turning the course of an Empire. Skywalker had taught him that.

If he were to deal with this… problem, it should be in a managed fashion, with an ultimate goal; the reinstatement of the true Empire. If the line of succession hadn't been altered – and Wez very much doubted that Skywalker would without good reason – then Mara Jade was next in line to the throne. She too was strong and assertive; she didn't have Luke's breadth of vision, but then perhaps that was no bad thing - she would have no desire to change the Empire to some toothless, ungovernable shambles just a half-step away from anarchy. Jade had always been a staunch Imperialist, brought up to respect the Empire and its values.

For Wez himself to move against Skywalker was out of the question of course. What he needed was to orchestrate a situation which would not only bring Jade to power, but ideally clarify for the new Empress just exactly what depths the rebellion that Skywalker was so blindly intending to enter into negotiations with was capable of and leave her intent on pursuing them with a vengeance, obliterating both the rebellion and these ever-deteriorating and subversive statutes once and for all. He had the contacts – he'd had them for some time now, in truth – all he'd lacked was the basis for moving forward.

Today the present Emperor, despite all early indications to the contrary, had proved himself to be unfit to hold the title... and as a staunch Imperialist, it was Wez's duty, his obligation and his honour to maintain the Empire he so revered, _whatever the cost_. No individual, no matter what his heritage or his status, could be placed above the continued survival of the Empire.

Yes, the Emperor was to be revered… but the Empire – the Empire was sacrosanct.

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.

"Those were the actions _of_ _the Emperor_ – he gave you the code to destroy a completed Death Star – he did that _firsthand_?"

"Yes." Leia said simply. "And now I'm asking you, do I take all of this to the Council?"

She watched as Tag Massa leaned back, resting her hand to her mouth as she considered all that Leia had just told her. Leia found herself holding her breath from where she sat to the desk in Tag's office, the privacy glass dimmed. Han had slouched with typical cavalier fashion in a chair close to the door, though there was an innate tension to his frame, an unspoken agitation as he fumbled with the toggles of his flight suit, deeply uneasy. He hadn't wanted her to come, Leia knew; had wanted to keep this between themselves. But it was too big and too important, and Leia had needed to discuss it with someone impartial. She'd chosen Tag, and already knew it was the right choice; the Intel Chief already knew that Leia had met Luke once, and had remained typically unperturbed at news of a second meeting… though the outcome of this one had rocked even her, underlining its relevance.

Glancing down to the blank automemo before her, Leia reflected that the concept of relying on her own decision in this seemed completely impossible now; with the best of intentions not to, she knew she'd become personally involved – that she'd been pulled in, slowly and gradually persuaded to make some kind of emotional investment in her continuing discussions with the Emperor. She could no longer view this with a detached, balanced viewpoint and she knew it, so she was now relying on the council of those she trusted to provide the balance she needed. Was it a limitation, her inability to come to a decision, or simply an acknowledgment of the facts? Should she follow her own heart in this, or was it too important to let personal feelings hold sway? Lost in thought, Leia doodled idly on the automemo, drawing repeats of the same image, one circle linked into another; not quite right though – something was missing. Shaking her head, she scribbled them out and they deleted.

She found herself wondering what the Emperor would do in this situation, and shook her head abruptly, furious at herself that she'd even consider such a thing! Or perhaps not; he'd held his Empire together through everything that had been hurled against it by the Rebel Alliance – her father, she knew, would have told her that it wasn't a fault to respect one's enemy, simply the acknowledgment of a more than competent leader. One should have a healthy respect for one's rivals, surely?

Tag was shaking her head now, lips narrowed to a firm line. "No. At this time, my advice would be not to go public with this, not even to the Council. I'll log the events here in my own documentation so that it can be confirmed that you came to me with this, but in the present atmosphere, I would advise against telling the Council that you'd met with the Emperor. If the information's logged, you can change that decision at any time without loss of face because you came to me and made it known and I advised against it."

"Not even the moderates like General Rieekan?"

"I would say that once information of this relevance is leaked in any form, you would have a hard time containing it, Ma'am. I may change my mind tomorrow myself, when I've had more time to consider the implications, but… no. Right now I would advise you to hold fast."

Leia sighed uneasily, rising to pace the small office, "I'm… uncomfortable keeping this from the Council."

"I fail to see what it would gain at this time, other than to further destabilize it."

Which was the painful truth, Leia knew; the Council was already torn by infighting from opposing factions, thanks to Madine's constant calls for what he euphemistically referred to as a 'more pro-active stance'.

"In fact that may well have been the Emperor's ulterior aim." Tag added.

"Then why tell me not to tell anyone?"

"Oldest trick in the book." Han shrugged, leaning back. "If I tell you to think of anything other than a tauntaun, what are you thinking of right now?"

Leia narrowed her eyes, "I think we're a little past that hotshot."

"Worked though, didn't it?" Han grinned.

"Maybe," Leia conceded. "I'm just not sure why you're the one saying it."

"I'm not stupid, swe… Leia," Han said, glancing to Massa, "and I sure as hell ain't naïve. I know Luke's not the kid who walked off Tatooine nine years ago – hell, he couldn't have been that even if he'd stayed with the Alliance – but that doesn't mean he's not genuine in this."

"Perhaps we should be looking at what the Emperor, rather than ourselves, has to lose by making this public." Tag suggested, always the voice of reason. "Looking solely at this last action, why wouldn't he want to go public? He has some reason, or he would have done so. Why not do this publicly?"

Han sighed, considering, if only because he was aware of how uneasy this was making Leia. "Okay… because… it cost a lot of credit to build."

"No… maybe…" Leia shook her head as she paced, hands clasped before her chin; this was too hard! Being placed into a position where she was now double-thinking a man who deep down she maybe even wanted to believe. Where did her personal feelings end and her ability to lead begin? "He has to have a reason, he doesn't do anything without a reason."

"Okay," Han said again, "it's gonna upset his military; he has something that would make them practically invincible and he ups and destroys it."

Leia clicked her fingers at him, "Point! Plus, he wouldn't want to give his military any more power than they have already. He said that more than once when we spoke – that he didn't trust them."

"So if he'd given it to them, he'd've basically given whoever controlled it the power to hold him to ransom or overthrow him entirely, which he'd never do – but he wouldn't have wanted them to _know_ that he didn't trust them."

"Wouldn't want to incite revolt," Leia agreed, nodding. "It could have been classified as much from his own military as from us."

"He'd never want to use it himself," Han added, very sure, "but he'd never want to give anyone else the opportunity to use it against him."

Tag shrugged, "To gain your trust perhaps – he'd know as well as we do that for you to admit to this now would be a destabilizing factor within your own leadership. If he relieved you of the burden of acknowledging any of this publicly, then his intentions would remain constant – is he genuinely trying to help you?"

"He may simply want proof that he can trust you," Han said, voice neutral. "He asked you not to tell anyone about it."

Leia frowned, about to ask why he would need Leia to prove her trustworthiness – then realized that she'd already told Tag. Han's eyes still on her reminded her of the greater picture too; that it was she who had brought the proof about Luke's origins to light seven years ago. But why should she feel guilty about uncovering a spy?!

Tag shook her head, "This is all second-guessing and conjecture. Even if we touched on the truth, we wouldn't know."

"You could ask him," Han shrugged – and both women turned to stare at him. "What – when's the last time he lied to you?"

"I don't know!" Leia exclaimed, "That's the point!"

"No, that's not the point." Han said, looking to Leia. "The point is, whether you admit it publicly or not, he still made the gesture… my question is, what are you gonna do in reply?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said he'd done it to prove his intentions, right? By my reckoning, that means it's now your turn."

Leia stopped dead in her pacing of the small office; he was right of course; could she afford not to take the chance – if she didn't react to this, the fact was that Leia would always privately wonder if because of her own suspicions, she had been the one to throw away the first genuine opportunity to move forward in almost three decades.

Tagged sat up slightly, voice wary. "What exactly was he asking?"

"A step-down in hostilities," Leia said. "The first stage which would lead to official talks."

Massa nodded knowingly, "That's why he broke off the attack at Fondor."

"That's what he said." Leia confirmed.

Tag nodded, on firmer ground here, knowing what her response should be. "I think that's a reasonable point to take to the Council, based solely on the Empire's actions. If you intend to make that gesture as a prelude to talks then you're going to have to curb the Alliance's military responses sooner or later, and people will start to ask questions. Better to be pro-active than reactive."

Han slouched further into his chair, "Well, that'll be a fun day. Right up there with cleanin' Chewie's hairs outta the Falcon's air exchange."

Leia threw Han a wry half-smile as she sighed, though it didn't relieve the tension in her taught muscles, "Thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

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.

"I'm sorry, your Highness, could you repeat that?" It was telling that it was Ackbar, Leia's own Fleet Commander and a stout backer, who asked the question.

"I'm recommending that we tone down military hostilities against the Empire for a trial period," Leia repeated. "As part of a larger strategy."

"And this strategy would be?" Commander Odig asked. One of the Supreme Allied Commanders who formed the Alliance Council, and recently a supporter of Madine's more aggressive stance, she formed one third of the opposition Leia fully expected to rail against this proposal. Like General Werth, Odig had always leaned towards a more military perspective, but it was Madine's ability to play on that which had cemented her stance, and given him the backing he needed to affectively challenge any moderate proposal.

"I believe the actions taken by the Empire at the Fondor Shipyards form a clear unspoken invitation to decrease hostilities, maybe even a precursor to enter into talks," Leia said. "I've conferred with Intel on this and there are numerous files pertaining to the events of the day. It's clear that the Emperor himself was present and as such, we have to appreciate that the actions taken on that day were doubtless to his command. If you check the debriefings taken from those pilots present, you'll note that previous to the Patriot's arrival, the Star Destroyers were mounting a solid attack."

"You'll also note in those debriefings that when the Patriot arrived, it fired off a DEMP charge which disabled over fifty fighters." Madine countered. "The Patriot didn't attack further because there was no need, Ma'am. It had won that particular fight."

"Yes, it had. Then it promptly contacted us and allowed us to retrieve our pilots. Men it could have easily left to die." Leia looked around the large circular table, chin high, voice very sure, not a shadow of a doubt visible before this most astute of audiences. "This was an unprecedented action. We were given a message, sirs. We were shown in no uncertain terms that all previous assumptions were outdated. We saw an act of good will offered in good faith."

"I would put it to you Ma'am, that the message we were shown was one of dominance and ridicule."

"In sparing lives?"

"If they had wished to spare lives Ma'am, they could have not initiated their attack. We lost six pilots in the early stages of our retreat." Werth ground out.

"You seriously expect them not to respond to a military attack on Sovereign territory? When we look back over the last decade, our history is one of military escalation General – what reaction are we to expect? Was this really the intent of those political luminaries who first formed the Alliance? And again I reiterate, General Werth, that the attack was suspended when the Patriot came into the battle."

"Because the battle was effectively over!" Madine said.

"How often does one get the opportunity to shorten a war?" Leia said, trying a different angle. "How often can one do such a thing with no further loss of life – simply by a change of attitude - our readiness to judge replaced by a willingness to listen. To take a chance. To make a step which would in truth bring us closer in line to the Alliance's original ideals. The first move has been made sirs, and it wasn't by us – it costs us nothing but our patience to wait and watch the outcome of a cessation of hostilities – and it could gain us so very much."

The table fell to silence, and Leia knew that she'd reached at least some of those sat there. But not all.

"Those are persuasive words, Ma'am – if a little naïve." Madine said artfully. "Perhaps I should bring in the partners of Lieutenants Ruskin and Feroll, both of whom died this week on active duty, and you could tell them that. Perhaps I could request a list from Intel of Alliance sympathizers who have simply gone… _missing_ this week alone. Perhaps I should relay your message to the inhabitants of Bettok and Tallaso, or Kashyyk and Fislan, which still groan under the yoke of unwilling and heavy-handed Imperial occupation."

"I didn't say this was an end to Imperial practice, General. I said that it was an opportunity to open talks – to begin that transformation."

"If they wished to talk, then we were right _there_." General Werth said, always one of Madine's backers. "All they had to do was open a channel."

"And would you have listened, General?" Leia asked. "Would you have considered any proposition made with the same openness that you consider this discussion today?"

The double-meaning wasn't lost on him, and Werth fell to silence, lips narrowing.

"It was one isolated incident." Madine said. "You wish us to make a far-reaching change in the course of Alliance policy on that alone?"

For a brief second Leia considered, the temptation to tell them everything overwhelming. What would they say? What would Madine and his cohorts have to say about the fact that their own Chief of Staff had already spoken with the Emperor himself twice, face to face?! She slumped just slightly, well aware of what they'd say; they'd probably make a good attempt at Court-marshalling her. "That doesn't make the action or its intent invalid General, particularly given its source. Every journey must begin with a single step. I genuinely believe that this was a testing of the waters... are we so set in our ways that we're incapable of responding? Are we no better than those in the Empire we presently call for sustaining its own narrow view?"

"If this were true, then it is the very actions you wish to cease that have forced the Empire to this point, Ma'am."

"Are we sure of that, General?" It was Tag Massa, Force thank her, who finally spoke out in Leia's defense. "Do we have any factual proof? As far as I'm aware, there have been no changes to our recent policies which would have forced this response, and there have been no noticeable changes to the basic efficacy of the Empire. If you have data of which I'm unaware…?"

"I'm talking of attrition."

"As I say, there have been no measurable changes in the Empire's underlying structure which would indicate such a theory."

"Then to what are we attributing this action?" Ackbar asked, glassy eyes swivelling to Leia.

She pursed her lips; if she did this now – if she said his name – she effectively tied her lot with the man whom she claimed as her adversary.

Again it was Tag who came to her aid, saving Leia the unwanted association. "If I were to attribute it to a single factor Admiral, then it would be to the change in leadership."

"Indeed?" Commander Werth said. "Then he seems to have taken his time to come to this decision."

"I would hypothesize that the new Emperor needed to place his own house in order before he made any such grand gestures, Commander Werth." Tag replied easily without looking up, and Leia marvelled again at her unerring ability to both back Leia up and yet still remain completely neutral, her professional reputation untarnished. "Considering the changes to the Imperial Edicts placed within days of his accession to power, I doubt very much that this is a sudden change of heart."

"That's quite an assumption, Commander," Madine clipped. "Tell me, is it made based on careful evaluation of the available intelligence… or is it simply a guess?"

"Forgive me General but based on the discussion so far, I wasn't aware that everything we brought to this table had to be backed up by empirically referenced evidence."

"Should I take that as a no?"

"No Sir, it is not backed up by evidence," Tag said, unfazed. "It is simply obvious."

"So – and forgive me if I repeat myself, but I'd like to make this clear – you wish us to stop military action based on this _one_ event?"

"Thank you General Madine," General Rieekan said dryly, "I think you've made yourself _very_ clear." Another level-headed voice added to the fray, Leia smiled; his promotion by mutual agreement from Sector Commander to Minister of War had headed off Madine's play for the role. He hadn't particularly sought the position, but had accepted it knowing that in doing so he had bought Leia the more open-minded, less militarily-oriented Council she needed to counter Madine's schemes.

"Forgive me, but I fear I have not, General." Madine said hotly. "Because we are _still_ considering the cessation of the very military actions which have clearly caused the Empire to falter. I would argue that our response to this development should be to escalate incursions."

Leia rose, "May I remind you Sir, that this is _not_ a military organization; it is a political one, forced into a military stance, and I won't be the one who reduces the Alliance from its political pedigree to a junta."

"And what would have us do, Ma'am – _talk_ the Empire into submission?"

"You would rather throw lives at it, General? You would rather maim and kill on both sides of the divide in the name of freedom, when your opponent is offering a bloodless truce? Are we all so blindly mired in this conflict?"

The faces about the table turned down, no-one speaking.

"With respect Ma'am, you're asking the members of the Council to make a decision which will change the direction of the Alliance with neither warning nor proper discussion." Commander Odig kept her voice calm and reasonable, though Leia knew she was simply pushing to gain time for Madine to recover. He often relied on her years of experience in the Council to buy him the credibility and the applicable regulations he needed.

And he certainly wasn't slow to follow her lead today; "Under those circumstances, I would suggest that the Council should have a recess of four weeks in which to prepare their cases for further discussion."

Rieekan sat up straighter as Leia turned on Madine. "We are discussing it now, General."

"Indeed Ma'am, however I'm sure that I speak for everyone in this meeting when I admit that I feel at something of a disadvantage here. It would be most… unconstitutional to push through a major strategic precedent on such terms, do you not agree?"

Leia blanched at the outrageous timescale, aware that Madine was playing with the tenets of democracy as he played with any other military convention, but also aware that on principle, he was correct; she had no right to force a decision from those here today when they'd had no time to consider the facts… but a month? "And in the meantime?"

"And in the meantime, I would advise you to do the same, in preparation for extended debate Ma'am – or do you expect us to fundamentally change Alliance policy on the outcome of a single meeting? I'm sure that I speak for everyone here when I say that this development is unexpected to say the very least. Perhaps when we are a little more prepared, we can better discuss this frankly extraordinary proposition. For now I feel we should consider your demands very carefully – and our own principles and consciences, in respect to all those who've given their lives in this conflict."

Oh, he was getting way too good at this, Leia knew; divisive words and guilty implications and past grudges scattered into the considerations of those here and left to fester. And she knew damn well that in the recess he would indeed put his own arguments in order, as well as seek any support he could stir up, using any uncertainties this instigated to strengthen his own support. And he'd made it quite clear in everyone's thoughts that the return to this subject was only an opening of discussions – yet another delaying tactic.

Leia was only too aware that Madine had become a magnet for all the fanatics and the radicals whose existence had become more a drive to hurt the Empire than to broker any possible peace; Tag Massa had warned more than once that Madine was playing his own little power games, though she'd dismissed Han's claims that Madine was on the verge of generating a splinter-movement within the Alliance. Still, Leia was suddenly intensely aware that her actions today were only weakening her position; which didn't mean to say that she thought them incorrect – nobody said the course of democracy was a smooth one – but she was becoming acutely aware of the friction and the rifts which one ambitious individual could trigger within her own Council.

"Very well then. I propose a recess of three weeks, in which time we can all look to the greater picture as you say, General Madine, without tethering ourselves to the past, or the grudges and the prejudices that such things conjure."

She stood, deliberately meeting the eyes of every being there, wishing them to remember her words, to understand the significance of their decision. "We have an opportunity here as never before sirs," Leia said fervently, conjuring the words from some distant memory. "It's not enough for us to have a goal – we have to find a path to get there, to get everyone there. And if we see it, wherever it is, we have to seize it with both hands… because it may never come again."

It was only when the room had emptied and she stood alone, wondering at her words, that Leia realized where they had come from.

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	23. Chapter 23

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With a brief, quiet knock, the tall double-doors of Luke's office within the sprawling Cabinet, now staggered over nine complete floors of the South Tower yet still barely containing the principal administrative institutions, glided silently open. Turning from the long bank of memory-chips whose pale blue spines illuminated the run of one complete wall, Luke nodded once at the nervous Turis who bowed gawkily, a slight tremor in his voice as he announced Talon Karrde.

He really did have to do something to set the young man at ease, Luke reflected; the eagle-eyed Karrde probably thought that Luke made his life hell, for Turis to be so nervous every time he entered Luke's presense.

The mercenary sketched a bow as he entered, his usual dry, composed demeanour unable to mask the all-consuming determination which was blaring out through the Force as he struggled not to give in to the temptation to stare hawk-eyed, like the self-professed information-broker he was, taking in every detail of this most exclusive of environs that only the privileged and the prominent ever saw.

Did he realize, Luke wondered as he set forward, that he was one of them now? Luke slowed, eyes turning to the bottle in Karrde's hand.

The smuggler handed it over with an uneasy grin that lifted the edges of that wide handlebar moustache. "For you."

"I was always told to beware of Corellians bearing gifts." Luke hid his surprise behind quoting the old adage he remembered his uncle speaking so often.

Karrde was unfazed, "That's the riff-raff, I have better breeding than that… I simply choose to act like one."

Luke took the bottle of brandy, recognizing the label instantly, though Karrde made his explanations anyway. "It's Ruusan. Two hundred years old. I kept threatening to bring you some and I thoughts.. well, with your wedding just a few weeks away now this might be your last opportunity to indulge in a little independent recommendation. From now on, you may find your liquor cabinet is one of many things arranged according to your wife's judgment."

The Emperor had the good grace to offer a nod of thanks, but Karrde knew him too well; knew that trace of slight discomfort which hardened his youthful features and held him to silence, setting fine lines at the corners of those mismatched eyes.

"This is a political marriage, isn't it?" Karrde realized, feeling suddenly very naïve for thinking otherwise. When the Emperor didn't reply, he added dryly, "Don't worry, you can keep the brandy either way."

Luke allowed a small, uncomfortable laugh as he stepped quickly away from the mercenary's shrewd gaze towards the immaculately polished amber-inlaid yew console to the rear of the large room. "Maybe I'll open it now… just in case."

"Then it is," Karrde said. "I can't say I'm entirely surprised. The rumour mills always seemed to put you with a very different partner."

Luke didn't turn, "Which rumour mills are these?

Unseen, Karrde tipped his head slightly looking to the Emperor's back, "Not, who, just which ones?"

Luke shrugged, attention on pouring the brandy. "People always talk, you can't stop that. I'd rather know how it's getting out than what they're saying. Anyway, you know you can't ever trust these things."

"To be honest this is a little theory of my own – one I've never passed on," Karrde assured. "No-one's ever said it directly of course, I've just read in between the lines, but..."

"Go on?" The Emperor turned and walked towards him.

He'd grown into his role in the last year, it seemed to Karrde, presenting now the picture of composed calm despite his youth. In fact the more difficult the situation, the more flawless the image the Emperor projected… how much then, was a defensive façade, Karrde wondered. Though he could hardly blame him; as their tentative working relationship had eased and settled, Karrde had more than once seen brief, suppressed glimpses of a young man who was very much at odds not just with the kind of stiff, formal pomp that seemed ingrained here, but also with the restrictions that a life at the top of the pile had heaped on a man known for his active military record. Karrde wondered briefly whether the whispers that the Emperor still occasionally slipped his bodyguards and indulge in a little grass-root action were true; knowing the Emperor as he did now – and his penchant for privately hiring unmarked ships and hardware from Karrde when he had the whole of a very effective, streamlined military at his control – Karrde wouldn't put it past the man.

Still, before that assured, expectant stare, the smuggler still found he hesitated to say it; "I've always imagined you with a nimble little redhead… or was I wrong?"

"You have a vivid imagination," the Emperor dismissed, passing a brandy glass to Karrde without speaking further.

Karrde shrugged, "She seemed more your type. Though I couldn't fault your choice in D'Arca either – from a purely aesthetic point of view, you understand."

The Emperor gave him a sideways glance in warning, and though it was indulgent Karrde got the distinct impression that he was skating at the very edge of accepted decorum. "At least tell me you know her,"

"As well as I know many, though these days that seems irrelevant too. I most likely know the mole in my Palace… I'm probably quite close to him, considering the information he's accessed."

Karrde's eyes narrowed, missing the neat change in direction beneath the intriguing subject matter. "You know who it is, don't you?"

The Emperor turned those sharp mismatched eyes on Karrde, expression as inscrutable as ever. "If I knew who it was, do you think I'd allow it to continue?"

"With you I never know," Karrde countered, and the two men shared a brief, amused glance. "There's no sign of the tracer virus yet?"

Not knowing where the leak was at the time, the tracer program Luke had used had been generated by Karrde's slicer Ghent rather than the Imperial Intel department, in an attempt to keep its existence hidden from all of Luke's senior staff. But Luke had taken care that even Karrde had no idea what document the tracer was connected to. "No, not yet. It must be in a closed system somewhere."

"Which means that whoever presently has it, they're not trying to pass it on any further."

Luke shook his head, "No. Presumably it went straight to its intended recipient and hasn't been passed to anyone by him – or her. Which would mean that my mole is in direct contact with their accomplice rather than selling on the open market."

"I have heard something," Karrde said uncertainly. "It may not be true, since I have no proof, but one of my people heard that your Super Star Destroyer's itinerary for the next three months was in Rebel hands…"

"It's with the Alliance?"

"Yes." Karrde watched the Emperor's jaw tighten, irritation burning dangerously close to the surface as he looked down, considering.

"Do you know who exactly has it?"

"No. As I said, I only had that because someone overheard specifics of it in conversation on a Rebel cruiser."

"Do they know who they heard it from?"

"No. They were only there for a few hours."

Luke glanced up, voice neutral, "Making a dropoff?"

"Yes – and before you ask, no, it wasn't one of my people. It was just passed on."

"If you get anything else that way – anything at all – let me know. I want to know who got that information."

"Of course. I do have one other nugget – I mentioned a while ago that there was a call out on all channels for information regarding a certain SSD Executor."

"Go on?"

"I made a few inquiries. They want plans… more specifically, they want plans of the retrofit which was made seven years ago to the detention bay."

"Detention bay?"

"There was, I'm informed, a specialized holding cell built there."

"Ah." Luke said, nodding.

Karrde's eyes narrowed; this had been a new one on him, though clearly the Emperor was familiar with it. "You knew about it?"

"Yes." The Emperor had that guarded look in his eye now, which Karrde had learned to interpret as, _'I'll give you exactly the information I think you might need but that's not half the story'_. "They're looking for the schematics to a reinforced, double-skinned cell designed to hold a Jedi."

Which actually didn't need much further explanation, Karrde knew; in this instance, for _Jedi, _read_ Sith_.

"So they want the plans to duplicate it." Karrde waited for a reaction, some flare of outrage, but it wasn't forthcoming. "Are they in existence?"

The Emperor seemed introspect now, lost in thought. "Somewhere, probably. I'm sure I could dredge a set up, attach a copy of the tracer and leave them to be found; see if our Palace mole takes the bait."

"I thought I could perhaps get a set of false plans from you anyway – something that looks like it may be genuine and has all the official seals. If I could make contact with the buyer, I might get an identity for you."

Luke considered; an interesting proposition. In fact, he could use both; give Karrde a set of plans and let him make contact, then allow Reece to smuggle a set out of the Palace; if whoever Karrde was dealing with then pulled out of the costly deal, it would mean that the same person who was dealing with Karrde was also Reece's regular contact – which would not only irrevocably tie Reece to the Alliance, but even give Luke the name of his contact there.

He frowned, the scar about his eye pulling with familiar pressure; but why would Reece, the inveterate Imperial, _ever_ deal with the Alliance? Just three months ago, when Luke had first privately admitted that his own brief contacts might progress into official talks, Wez had been all but apoplectic. Neither had mentioned that conversation since, but Wez's feelings had been crystal clear… How then, had an itinerary that Luke knew Wez had duplicated, ended up in rebel hands?

"I can supply a set of the actual plans, but you'd need to deal through a third party; I don't want your organization implemented. If it does flush the informer out, I don't want any chance of a traceable link to be drawn between you and the plans."

"Of course." Karrde hesitated, "I would have to have at least part of the plans uncoded and valid, so that they could be handed over for verification."

"You can have them all." Luke dismissed, his mind still on Reece.

Karrde frowned, "You're not worried they may get hold of the plans and actually build it?"

"Not particularly." The Emperor's distinctive eyes met Karrde's and there was a confidence to his words; not arrogance or smugness, just quiet, self-possessed knowledge – and as ever with the Emperor, it posed far more questions than it answered. "I could break out of the same cell today in less than five minutes."

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	24. Chapter 24

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**CHAPTER TWELVE**

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Unsurprisingly, on the day of the wedding Mara's name wasn't on the Duty Roster. She holed up in her quarters at the Palace, privacy filters on full at the windows, and spent her time sat at her desk writing her letter of resignation.

She'd tuned just once to a random HoloNet channel; it was on them all. D'Arca wore a rich ruby red dress of crushed vinesilk velvet with a long train, a coronet encrusted with Corellian bloodstones, rubies and black diamonds flashing against her raven hair. 'The Scarlet Empress' they were already calling her.

When the image cut to Luke she'd blanked the channel, unable to watch.

As night fell she wandered up through the North Tower, occasionally glancing out into the encroaching darkness as the first of the fireworks were let off by the crowds who had gathered on Coruscant, travelling in their millions to be near the Palace and share the experience. After decades of austere dogma under Palpatine's reign, their young, dashing, enigmatic new Emperor had always caught the publics' interest. The loosening of free speech, the HoloNet and the NewsNet in reforms that he himself had instigated, had been only too eager to feed their fascination, his all too obvious discomfort in the limelight only endearing him to them further. In this, as in so many other facets of his life, Mara mused, Luke Skywalker was a typical contradiction; he was, to all intents and purposes, a popular dictator.

She turned away, walking the familiar halls with brooding discontent as the evening dragged on, naturally gravitating away from the crowds of official guests who'd been awarded the ultimate boon of accommodation in the Palace's North Tower with their coveted invitation to the official celebration, only now beginning to wind down in the South Ballroom as the night waned. Eventually, almost by default, she ended up on the nameless, little known roof garden at the very top of the North Tower used mainly to supply fresh flowers to the Palace, a hidden hideaway which she and Luke had occasionally used as a safe meeting place during their clandestine affair long ago, when Palpatine's iron will held everyone to his chosen path. Realization knotted her stomach that even then, without knowing it, she'd been losing Luke to Kiria D'Arca; whether Palpatine had lived or died, she would probably still have faced this moment.

She walked out into the still night air, realizing that she hadn't actually been up here since that time, her heart twisting a little at the memories that it evoked – of laughter and exhilaration and electricity, of mischief and clandestine meetings in hidden, shadowed hideaways, of that bone-deep feeling of completion and contentment which afforded a strange sense of invulnerability to whatever the universe tried to throw at you.

It had got them both through, kept them both sane... so why did the exact same feelings drive her to distraction now?

A movement in the deep shadows of the long grass in a fallow strip of ground made her jump and she let out a small yell, twisting about, automatically reaching for the vibroblade sheathed against her belt at the small of her back.

"Don't jump." His quiet voice still had the power to send a twist of electricity through her.

"Why do you always say that just _after_ you've made me do so?"

" 'Cos if I said it any earlier I'd make you jump," came the wry reply – and stars, it was good to hear that loose Rim-world accent again. He let it slip so seldom now; it felt like a glimpse into the past.

She pulled herself together, realization belatedly hitting her, "What the hell are you doing up here anyway?"

How could she not ask… or hope.

"Nowhere else to go tonight," Luke said lightly, and Mara felt a slow smile spread across her face in the darkness.

She walked closer, squinting in the low light. He was laid out on his back in the unkempt grass of the wild fallow patch, no jacket on, glowing white dress shirt unbuttoned at collar and cuffs. Beneath his head was a roughly rolled-up throw, his arms bent back to lean on it, fingers laced behind his head to prop it up as he gazed straight up into the night sky without turning to her.

Mara stood over him for a short while, the moments convulsive with possibilities–

She should leave; she should turn around and walk away from someone obviously pretty damn confused right now… but somehow she couldn't get her body to turn or her legs to start walking. He didn't move, not once looking away from whatever held his attention so completely in the night sky… and eventually, without consciously making the decision, Mara settled onto the grass beside him, matching his pose, staring into the dusky night.

"What are we looking at?" she whispered at last.

"The stars," Luke said simply.

Mara frowned up into the warm orange glow of the endless city, reflected up into the haze of the Coruscant night, not a single star in sight.

"I can't see any," she said at last, and heard a trace of the smile on his lips as he replied.

"Trust me, they're up there."

There was something in his voice, something melancholy and jaded but tinged with a tired earnestness which made her smile.

"I do," she murmured quietly.

They lay there for a long time gazing up at the cityglow, lost in their thoughts before, at some unspoken agreement, Mara reached out her hand and felt Luke take it in his own, drawing it unhesitatingly up to rest on his chest, his thumb rubbing soothingly over her fingers.

"I used to look at the stars so much when I was a kid on Tatooine," he said wistfully at last, no trace of that perfect Coruscanti accent. It was sweet, always strangely intimate to Mara; something he did with her alone. "Different stars of course; same thoughts though. Same hopes. Same stupid dreams."

"I think everyone has those dreams," Mara said thoughtfully.

"D'you think they work out for some people?" he asked at last.

"You know, I have no idea," she admitted after a considered pause. "I suppose so…. statistically."

"………… wonder what that feels like," he murmured lightly.

The silence hung for long minutes, the warmth of his touch and the gentle rhythm of his chest rising and falling against her hand lulling Mara into easy synch, a familiar, much missed gentleness which reached into her soul and fed some part of her which had been hungry for far too long, loosing the tenseness which had ground slowly tighter in body and soul over the past month and making her feel she was finally able to breathe again. She felt completely at peace in that moment, staring up into the mute, diffuse darkness of the empty night sky.

But reality reached out and tugged at her all too soon in the form of a burst of blue and violet fireworks, whistling high into the atmosphere to bloom in fleeting incandescent glory… and they both knew what was being celebrated.

Funny – that neither of them felt involved. The event, like the firework, was a distant blur of color and change, intense and unignorable but somehow strangely remote, casting little more than a play of shadows on the isolation of their secret seclusion.

Mara let out a long sigh, "So what do we do now?"

"I wish I knew," Luke said with equal frankness. "All I know is that I left the woman I made Empress in her apartments two hours ago and I have no desire or intention to go back."

"Does she know?" Mara asked quietly.

"Of course," he replied neutrally, though Mara could hear the traces of hidden guilt in his voice. "I never lied to her."

"And me?"

Unoffended, Luke fell to silent consideration, then; "Did I lie to you?"

"Not in a while," Mara realized… which left only one question; "Do you still love me?" He didn't speak, didn't move for a long time. "Do you st-"

"Don't ask me that, Mara," he whispered at last.

"I have to know."

He shook his head, "Why - why hurt yourself?"

"You think I don't already hurt? You think today wasn't like a knife in my side – that it wasn't the longest, hardest day of my life?"

Luke let out a long sigh but was past apologising. He'd apologised enough, explained enough, validated enough – both to Mara and to himself. Today was as much an ordeal for him as it was for her, as much a test of will over wishes. It had been a knife in his soul too, twisting with guilt and regret.

It had been necessary.

He'd live. He always did.

"Do you still love me?" she asked again, and though his own eyes were closed, Luke could see the intensity in those sharp, forest green eyes.

"I stopped trusting you," he said at last. "I never stopped loving you."

Mara stared at the shadows of Luke's face in the darkness and watched his chest rise in a heavy, silent sigh but he said no more.

And he was right, she realized. He was right; it hurt like hell. It should have been a glorious thing, the ultimate triumph, fireworks and rhapsodies, absolute elation to hear those words. But it was cold and it was hard and it just plain hurt.

"Bring it on," she murmured, too quiet to be heard. "I can take it."

Eventually she nestled in closer to him, wordlessly resting her head on his shoulder – and he lifted a lock of her russet hair to thread it through his fingers as they remained sheltered in this secret place, staring at those hidden stars.

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When she woke the first light of dawn was bleeding that secluded night away, morning dew hazing the blanket they'd sought refuge under as the air had cooled, though Mara still basked in the warmth of his body close to hers, skin to skin. She closed her eyes against the day and sought comfort in the memories of last night; that safe, surreal haven which had given them the daring to feed their desire. She could take another three months of lonely misery for another night like last night. The memory lit a trembling fire in her stomach which travelled on down with glorious effect and brought a wanton smile to ruby lips.

She glanced to him now, his face still relaxed in sleep, jaw just slightly loose, lips barely open, utterly appealing. No worries, no tense concern hardening his features to that rigid, unbreakable façade. He was so young, like this. He'd always looked youthful but when he slept it was as if the years and the trials simply fell away and there he was; _her_ Luke. Not the Emperor, not the Sith just… her Luke. That damn pilot who'd walked into her life and turned it upside-down.

But he wasn't; he wasn't that man anymore, she knew that. He couldn't be and survive here, let alone rise to Emperor. Yet she'd _wanted_ that hadn't she? For him.

Only now she didn't want it for him – she just wanted _him_. She'd wanted her wolf… but just like Palpatine, she hadn't been enough to hold him. She hadn't, Palpatine hadn't… and Kiria D'Arca certainly wasn't, no matter what she thought. He'd made that clear in his own inimitable way last night, when the wolf began to feel too caged and had come to bay at the moon.

Or maybe… maybe he'd come looking for the past last night too, however subconsciously; come to a place where the memories were still warm.

Wasn't that why she'd come up here, after all? Hadn't she come up here remembering a time when every single day wasn't like fire and ice and every night wasn't like freefall.

Except last night. Last night he'd caught her. Last night she'd flown. Last night…

And tonight? He wouldn't come back tonight, she knew that. He'd wake up in the cold light of day and all those responsibilities and obligations would wrap themselves thickly about him and once again no-one would be able to reach past them to truly touch him.

He was married. He was married now; everything else was in the past. Kiria had won. But… hadn't he come here last night looking for that past? Hadn't they spent last night living it?

And what did Kiria D'Arca have to offer against that?

D'Arca wanted to be Empress? Fine, she could have it. She could have her empty title and rot with it for all Mara cared. It was just a title. Titles didn't keep you warm in the night and they didn't catch you when you were falling and they didn't make you fly. Let her keep her precious rank; Mara wasn't fighting for some empty title; she wanted the man. And she was as willing as ever to fight for him.

"Bring it on," she murmured again, absolutely sure; she could take it.

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When she'd slipped away, leaving him still sleeping in the first flush of dawn to return to her empty quarters, Mara paused at her desk to look at the letter of resignation she'd spent long hours writing yesterday, still waiting, ready to be transmitted…

In the still silence she reached out and blanked the screen, erasing it.

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	25. Chapter 25

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**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

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Luke stood close to the tall bank of windows in his bedroom staring out into the night sky. Coruscant was caught in the grip of one of its spectacular thunderstorms, brief flashes of incandescent lightening illuminating the wind-whipped clouds high above, their radiance like brief, broken flashes of daylight captured in the chaotic blaze of the roiling skies. Heavy squalls threw banks of rain against the thick transparisteel glass, momentarily blurring the night and reducing visibility to nothing until the wind lashed them to its edges in streaking trails, one after another. He'd watched for almost an hour now; stared out into the night as the storm threw the driving rain across bright shafts of light in blustered squalls, twisting it this way and that to catch brief beams of brightness like a school of frightened fish. Listened to the wind howl against the high slabs of the Palace towers, its fury ripping through the trees in the rooftop gardens far below, whipping them about in a frenzied flurry.

The seasons were changing; Coruscant never took well to change – but then it wasn't alone.

The plans relating to the confinement cell fitted onboard the Executor had been copied from the central database. Commander Arco, head of Intel, had been made aware of the security leak several weeks ago and now had a small team of six agents working in isolation who had registered the unauthorized file copy made earlier this evening.

Once again, all Luke could do was wait and watch, aware in every fiber of his body in that same basic, elemental way that one could sense the coming of a storm, that something was moving closer every day. It didn't scare him, this sense of some hulking happening just beyond his awareness; what was left for the galaxy to throw at him? Death? Death was easy; Palpatine had taught him that in his own unique manner, pushing him to that brink over and over until familiarity dulled its edge.

Another year and it wouldn't matter anyway, he'd have enough in place to ensure that the Empire was in freefall, gathering momentum… all he needed was that final, nameless inducement which would pull all the different factions together - all he needed was to find it.

He turned to glance just once at the small, unadorned wooden box on the cabinet nearby, a brief, bright flash from the storm defining its hard edges. It would have appalled the immense vanity of his old Master, Luke reflected, to know that his ashes lay anonymous in a plain, nondescript box in the room of the man who had killed him. But he'd made a promise to the heinous, bitter old man in that final duel… and let the fates try to take him before he made it real. Just let them try.

But it was tortuous, this wait, this gnawing knowledge within the Force, hovering in the near distance like the pressure change before a storm, hiding in the shadows at the edges of his vision and whispering every night when he tried to sleep, scratching at his dreams and twisting them…

… … …

…_.. ….. ….. ….. ….._

_He was in the corridor again on Hosk Station; that long, dark, dirty, dusty, forgotten corridor, a broken, nightmare reality buckling and stretching the edges of the shadows. And at the far end was not the door beyond which lay the room where Leia waited; now it was barred by a far heavier battened door, agonizingly, achingly familiar._

_With a hermetic hiss the door swung open and just beyond, a second door swung back on heavy brackets – and Luke knew what was within._

_Yet he walked forward, unable to stop himself with all the will in the worlds._

_He hesitated, holding back at the threshold, the room within black as a starless night… and without his moving the room distended, reaching out, engulfing him, surrounding him… and it was not the meeting room on Hosk; it was that cell, the cell beneath the Palace, and the door grated as it clanged shut with absolute inevitability._

_Here he stood again, in the cell beneath the Palace… but not the cell. A perfect replica, the curve of the roof, the echo of Luke's harsh breathing against the arched, domed space… but no ashen walls here; no perfect glowing white. These walls were black as pitch, black as nightmares, dark as death itself._

_And then they were there behind him; Palpatine's guards. The guards who always came. Twelve minds as dense and hard and cold as stone. Twelve single-minded intents; twelve faceless threats. Twelve guards… only not twelve._

_Not twelve minds; seven. Seven minds… why seven?_

_And the shock of pain that shot through him in the next moment was crippling, buckling his knees as he fell to the ground, arms about his head for protection as he had so many times in that damn cell._

_.._

_He gasped in the absolute silence, still hunched down…. had they stopped? When had they stopped? A month ago or a minute, an hour ago or a heartbeat? Muscled slowly relaxed, still trembling in pain…_

_And there – there before him in that damn cell was Palpatine's throne; the Seat of Prophesy, the source of nightmares. But it wasn't Palpatine who sat statue still on the massive throne, insubstantial as a dream yet somehow solid and impenetrable as granite. Instead the image in Luke's vision shifted, pulsing in time with his heart, twisting and fragmenting within his mind, tumbling through brief, broken images of everyone he had known.  
__Words, moments, memories of all that these people had said blossomed within Luke's mind, soundless and formless yet crystal clear, mixed and merged with disjointed images of the throne, brief refractions from its gilded surface glaring. Memories shuttered past, fragmented, quicksilver-fast, twisted and splintered and sharp as blades, and this room, this dark cell, filled with them, flashing bright and harsh in the absolute blackness until they crushed down on Luke like a physical force, pressing in, holding his ribs tight against his breath, doubling him over–_

_He screamed, more mental than physical, a burst of incandescent power within the Force which exploded outwards, pushing the memories back in a perfect, empty bubble about him – and for an instant everything was still, as if time itself had stopped, and Luke rose slowly within the centre of this empty, dreamlike bubble while all those memories and those lives clambered at its edges, distant and obtuse._

_And all that was left within the still silence of the bubble was Luke… and the throne._

_It alone whispered, ponderously and powerfully, like the turning of the universe… and slowly the whisper became that deep, familiar tone, jarring and discordant at first but changing as it echoed, like the receding tenor of a bell, coming into perfect, precise harmony with Luke's mind. It had no words, no conscious thought, but a pull so powerful that Luke felt it aligned every molecule of his body, every sliver of every thought towards it with a need so deep and so resonant it became his own:_

_~Sit~  
__The word rang within him. It rippled like a heat-haze in the air, it scorched and it burned like fire – because he knew; he knew that if he walked alone through this absolute stillness to sit on that throne, it would be his death._

_And behind him once more in that barren space were Palpatine's twelve guards, minds impenetrable in the still bubble, their very existence blanked in this Force-empty void, faces unreadable; unseeable… only not twelve; seven._

_Seven.  
__When Luke turned, stumbling about to face them, they had no force-pikes, no bars; now they held blaster rifles, shoulder-height, unerringly aimed._

_A shout sounded, the word a burst of barbed hate, filling the void completely, the bubble shattering, Luke jerking back as the word became an action;_

"_Fire!"_

Luke jolted backwards, muscles convulsing, braced uselessly against the shots. The blow to the back of his head lit the absolute darkness with bright white light–

He let out a yell and it was a real sound, the shock of it yanking him back from the nightmare and into the real world, gasping in the darkness, body pressed against the head of the bed where he must have scrabbled during the vision, banging his head behind him, the pain dragging him back into the reality of the night, eyes wide, chest heaving.

The shadows lit bright with another flash from the thunderstorm, an implacable frenzy of chaotic fury, and Luke flinched, every muscle firing.

The throne! That damn throne!

He had to see; right now, he had to see; was possessed by the need to go there right now and _know_ that the throne was gone.

He rose and dressed quickly, pulling on clothes without seeing, shirt sliding over sweat-wet skin, mind completely gripped, obsessed by the need to see that the throne was gone.

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He stood in the chill silence of the empty chamber, eyes on the scuffled footmarks in the heavy dust where many men had come in to heave the throne away. The storm railed outside, hurling itself against the windows time and again as he stood without moving for so long that his muscles buzzed and his vision dimmed, shadows writhing in the gloom.

Finally in a blur of motion he twisted round, striding so quickly from the apartments and through his guards that they barely had time to stagger back from his path. On the move again, they scattered into a loose, ill at ease group walking quickly back to the West Tower, Luke powering up the wide, shallow-stepped staircases several steps at a time, forcing his guards to rush behind him. He strode down the long corridor without slowing, already taking his lightsaber from his belt, the tall doors before him practically bursting open to rebound forcefully against the walls. Luke was already through them, his saber the only light in the huge wooden-floored Practice Hall.

The Red Guards stopped gratefully outside the hall, positioning themselves at either side of the door, minds singing their relief at not having to follow their Emperor any further.

Luke didn't break pace, his lightsaber moving in a complicated series of arcs as he launched into practice stanza with no warm-up, beginning at an advanced level. The practice continued for a long time in darkness, the movements becoming faster and fiercer, the only sounds reverberating through the cavernous, empty space those of the howling thunderstorm and the bright, buzzing blade cutting through air.

.

The call had come in three hours after midnight rousing Mara from a disturbed sleep, murky, troubled dreams whisping like roiling black smoke at the edges of her awareness. Contacting Nathan, she'd dressed as quickly as possible and made her way here, fretting all the way at the fragile state Luke may be in, long empty corridors whistling ominously, a pale echo of the fury of the storm outside. This was the third time in the last month that she'd been roused in the middle of the night by Clem, head of the Emperor's Guard, with carefully-phrased messages to come quickly, only Mara or Nathan able to disperse these situations.

When she arrived Nathan wasn't yet here, Clem stood halfway down the corridor, expression set in stone. The two reliable bodyguards who had doubtless been on duty and so had trailed Luke across the Towers remained to either side of the Practice Hall door, but aside from that they were alone; the rule was, as few people as possible.

As Mara passed Clem, the bright ruby blade of a lightsaber burst through the outside wall of the Practice Hall a few feet from one of the bodyguards as if thrown, causing the man to jump and twist away in shock as the still-active blade fell under its own loose weight, cutting a line downwards through the stone until the heaviness of the hilt pulled it loosely back into the Practice Hall.

Mara gathered her own composure almost immediately, scowling silently at the man's reaction as she walked to the doors, a picture of unconcerned confidence as the blade fell away from sight leaving a long gash through the wall. She opened the doors and without hesitation walked into the inky darkness beyond.

Closing the doors, Mara stood still for several seconds waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She could hear Luke's heavy breathing, but there was no starlight tonight from the long thin windows to one side of the hall, so that she knew only vaguely that he stood somewhere towards the centre of the room. Turning, Mara walked slowly toward the lightsaber, which still hummed dangerously on the floor, the tip of the scarlet blade resting against the wooden boards and causing a fine whisp of smoke as it burned through.

As she crouched down to take it the blade spun away from her, twisting back and up to launch itself across the room hilt first. Mara froze for a fraction of a second, hearing the metal hilt make contact with Luke's hand as he caught it. Giving herself one breath, he rose and turned. "Luke?"

Illuminated by the carmine glow, breathing heavily, hair wet and his shirt stuck to his body with sweat, Luke Skywalker looked anything but fragile.

A fork of blinding light split the sky behind him, making Mara flinch, and then he'd turned, the blazing ruby blade ripping through the air at incredible speed, becoming a blur of motion as its wielder threw himself into flips and somersaults, unconventional attacks and sweeping, powerful blows linked together, fluid and deadly, delivered with both unerring precision and raw aggression–

Suddenly he stopped dead, shouting out in annoyance. Backing up several moves, he repeated the last series of offensive swings, the blade describing intricate arcs, momentary glimpses of the man who held it flashing by in the darkness. Stopping again at precisely the same moment, he muttered to himself, backing up, repeating the exercise again. And again, and again, and again, each time a little faster, the blade blurring into a wide arc of light until finally, with a shout of frustration, he hurled the lightsaber away from himself with such force that it flew the length of the room, tumbling in a swirling ribbon of radiance over the ebony floor, the smell of burning wood rising in brief coils as it made contact.

"Luke, what the hell are you..." Mara paused, the look in his eye stopping her dead.

Then he reached out without looking and the blade skittered about and lifted, hurling itself back to slap into the palm of his outstretched hand, the blade twisted away to be swung low behind its wielder, the tip almost at floor level, silhouetting Luke as he turned sideways on to Mara, one hand before him, stalking forward in a combat stance. If he recognized her at all then he didn't show it, didn't slow his pace.

Heart pumping, Mara took three long, quick steps back and reached out to brush her hand over the control panel, the lights in the huge room illuminating in sequenced banks, making its occupants flinch momentarily, though in her haste Mara had only activated around half of them.

Luke froze, wincing against the light, the action bunching the scar about his eye. In the dim half-light he dropped his weight onto his back leg, lightsaber still lit. Although it was held low behind him, his balance on his back foot, Mara was very much aware that the he was still stood en-guarde.

She briefly wished she'd brought her own saber with her, if only as a back-up defense, then instantly dismissed the thought; if she'd drawn a blade she'd have no hope of stopping him, not when he was like this. For an instant she thought of the vials of serum that could have sedated him; the ones that Luke had ordered destroyed, then she glanced quickly away, cloaking the thought.

The endless Saber practice that had kept him sane in Palpatine's Court for so long had slowly mutated in the last few months, when the nightmares or the visions surfaced and he'd been unable to sleep. If left, he'd practice till exhaustion took him then sleep briefly, falling back on meditation to restore a tired mind and aching body.

But every time they'd become a little more dangerous, these brittle outbursts, a little less controlled. Like a waking dream from which there was no escape

Mara took another step forward, speaking his name, attempting to break the moment with casual words as she had done in the past. "Luke… seriously, stop it. You're making me nervous."

He remained still, chest heaving, lightsaber still low though his whole body language in that moment indicated someone on the edge of attack rather than making a defensive withdrawal.

Again Mara made herself move forward. "Luke… Nathan's on his way and you'll …"

"_Leave_," he hissed, voice vehement, head to one side, hand held out low before him in warning.

Deeply aware that this was the only warning she would receive, Mara took a further step forward, showing her outstretched hands but keeping them low, palms up. "You know I can't do that."

Luke transferred his weight evenly to the balls of his feet as Mara took another step forward, his front hand dropping closer to his body, knees bending slightly. It was a subtle change of balance but Mara was watching for it and paused, knowing she could go no closer, the low hum of the blade vibrating the air. "Perhaps you…"

Abruptly Luke threw his weight up and back into a somersault, the blade swinging out before him, inches away from cutting Mara from hip to shoulder. Landing on his left foot, still half-crouching, he used the momentum of the jump to carry him back round to face Mara, the saber brought in tight to his body before stabbing out and up to stop inches before Mara's ribcage.

She stood very still though her chest rose and fell quickly, shocked rigid by the action. They'd sparred many times and Luke often brought his own blade close to Mara in an attempt to get her used to its presence, but she'd never once felt under any threat, no matter what.

"_You're saying you're capable of hurting me? I don't believe you."_ She'd had absolute conviction when she'd said that to Luke, long ago. Now, here, her heart pumping against her ribs, Mara was acutely conscious of the fact that even if Luke was aware of her presence he clearly had no idea of who she was.

He stood, suddenly lax as he glanced down, shaking his head, clearly frustrated, any trace of menace gone. The tip of the blade dropped loosely down as again he backed up three steps, pausing with his eyes closed.

Swallowing against her dry mouth Mara made to follow but as she did so Luke again threw himself back into exactly the same sequence of moves, the speed of the change from idle to action terrifying, his lightsaber arcing round in a solid wall of light before Mara, so fast was the motion. The moment he finished he let out an exclamation of anger, standing up and taking a few steps back, shaking his head.

"Luke, I'm going to get Hallin, okay?" He must be outside the door by now, Mara knew; dare she bring him in? The thought was overrun by a flurry of movement as again Luke went through precisely the same sequence.

This time as he finished, ribcage still heaving from the exertion, he shouted out angrily at himself, "Do it _right_!!"

As if Mara were simply not there, he again took three steps back, head shaking, muttering unheard rebukes to himself. This time, desperate to interrupt this compulsive spiral, Mara stepped too close for Luke to repeat the movements without hitting her.

Without even looking Luke backed up further, but Mara stepped forward again, maintaining the distance between them, a twisted repetition of the time long ago when she'd walked in on him in the practice hall, trying to stop him practicing when it would have damaged his badly broken arm. Then it had been a game, Luke grinning as she'd stepped in close and he'd stepped back, _"What, are we dancing now?" _

Her heart ached in her chest at the memory; at the difference from then to now – at the spiraling events that had brought him to this.

Unknowing, seeming still unaware of Mara, Luke backed up without acknowledging her. Again Mara followed. They traversed back several more times like this until finally Luke was forced to look up at her, annoyance clipping his words, eyes glowing bright in the dim light. "Move _back!"_

Mara felt the heavy pressure drive against her body as Luke's hand lifted, palm out. The invisible force was more a push than a blow, a fraction of what he was capable, but it held incredible contained power as it batted against her ribcage, propelling her effortlessly back. She tried vainly to stand her ground, leaning into the invisible push though it forced her back several staggering steps as if all her resistance was nothing.

Already Luke was stepping back, the act forgotten or dismissed, lost within his own insular awareness as Mara forced air into her lungs to speak.

"He isn't here," she said loudly and firmly, still struggling to breathe.

Luke paused, his chain of thought broken, "…what?"

"He's not here Luke, you know that." Mara shook her head, seeking eye contact, "He's dead."

For several long seconds Luke stared at Mara, breathing heavily. Finally he shook his head, muttering, backing up again, the compulsion taking hold.

Mara stepped forward, trying again. "The move was perfect."

He shook his head without looking up, "It was too slow."

He had answered – which meant he was listening. "It was perfect. You've practiced enough tonight."

"No, it was too slow. The blade wasn't tight enough in on the turn." Luke was adamant, though Mara knew that the flaws were non-existent. She reached out, close enough to touch him but not daring to do so in his knife-edge state.

"Luke – you have to stop now."

Luke paused, breathing heavily, frustration and confusion evident in his eyes… but he hesitated… "…It was too slow…"

"Please, Luke. You know what this is, it's just the dreams." Again Mara held out her hand, aware that Luke was struggling against inner demons. Always, in all the time she'd known him, he'd had nightmares which had dragged him awake in the dead of night, shouting out in the darkness, several steps from the bed before he was even awake, tensed to fight. She knew what they were, how they'd come about, though he'd never once in all the time she'd known him spoken of his time in the cell beneath the Palace.

Luke took a halting step back, strangely vulnerable now, shaking his head, voice small. "…it was too slow…"

"No it wasn't. You can practice tomorrow. Please Luke…"

He blinked quickly several times as if coming out of a fugue, taught muscles slowly slackening. The bass hum of the saber died as he deactivated it. Still breathing heavily, he looked down, confusion coloring his scarred features.

"I still see it," he whispered, eyes impossibly bright in the half-shadows, voice broken by bewilderment.

"See what?"

"The throne, Palpatine's throne." He said it as if it were obvious, as if it were the driving force of the universe.

Mara knew he'd been there tonight; had been told by Clem that he'd gone there first, standing for almost an hour in Palpatine's deserted quarters to stare in still silence at the empty space where the throne had once stood.

"It's gone," Mara said simply. "It's gone now."

He looked to her, head coming up slowly, awareness seeping into glassy eyes. Releasing the breath she hadn't realised she was holding, Mara let the silence hang a few moments for Luke to find his focus before finally saying gently, "Perhaps you should rest?"

Luke loosed a broken breath, mismatched eyes imploring as he shook his head. "I can't..."

"I know." It was all she could say, knowing no words would smother this pain.

She stepped slowly forward, taking the saber from his unresisting hand, and wrapped her arms about him in the dim shadows, holding him close… and slowly, he lifted his arms and held her.

.

When Kiria arrived, alerted by her own sources, she was politely but firmly stopped twenty paces from the Practice Hall by Commander Clem's guards.

Hallin, one of the Emperor's Aides, glanced back momentarily but his attention seemed focused elsewhere. Kiria wondered briefly why he hadn't entered the Practice Hall, which was clearly where the Emperor was despite the early hour, two Royal Guard holding position outside the tall doors. Wez Reece arrived and was, annoyingly, allowed immediately past the wide ring of guards without challenge, Nathan Hallin walking forward to speak with him in hushed, urgent tones. Again Kiria tried to pass, and again she was stopped as the guard closed ranks before her.

This time she shouted out in frustration, and Reece immediately turned, starting forward.

"Please, Lady Kiria, you should return to your apartments."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing's happening. Please– "

Kiria set her head to the side as she looked up to him. "I'm not a fool, Reece. The Emperor's in there…. why?"

"He's practicing. He practices often, you know that."

"Before dawn?"

"Any hour." There was a cautious tone to his words which made Kiria frown.

"Reece, I'm not his enemy."

The Aide rubbed at his eyes, more long-suffering than tired, "I know, Excellency. I know that. This is just… a private matter."

Kiria frowned, glancing back to the close doors and the nervous, fretting faces of those in the corridor, Nathan Hallin passing out orders and moving guards back… and realization struck her – of who _wasn't_ here. "Is Jade in there?"

"Commander Jade is the Emperor's personal bodyguard, Excellency. You know…"

"Is she in there?"

"… Yes."

Kiria met his eye and Reece sighed, perhaps seeing some of the distress she was trying so hard to hide. His tone when he spoke was conciliatory, supportive even. "She can stabilize him in this instance, Excellency. She has a place here which– "

"Stabilize?" Kiria murmured, her concern clear as she lowered her voice.

"It's nothing, I assure you. Please, if you really want to help, you'll return to your apartments. I'll make time to see you tomorrow Excellency, and explain what I can. You have my word."

Kiria held his eye for long moments, wanting to argue… but now wasn't the time, even she could see that. She turned, pulling the long, grand train of her gown about her as she walked regally down the wide corridor, a bright fork of lightening briefly flaring in the shadows of this secretive place, aware that she had once again been politely sidelined.

.

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	26. Chapter 26

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**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

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.

Wez wasn't particularly accustomed to wandering the lower levels of the West Tower, but now was as good-a time to become so as any, particularly since one of his new protégé's had chosen to make her home here. Kiria D'Arca had requested such and with his distinctive mix of wary reluctance and good grace, the Emperor had allowed that her own apartments be in the same Tower as his, just nine storeys below. Of course, Skywalker was no stranger to the machinations of Palace powerplays and knew damn well that D'Arca was setting her claim and, whatever their personal arrangements, was making a very visible statement of her new rank and power. Yet he'd allowed it anyway.

He was, Wez suspected, nursing an unspoken guilty streak in regard to his _contract_ with D'Arca. Not sufficient that he'd lost the acumen to recognize that its value outweighed any petty personal qualms, but enough that despite his general avoidance of her, he was already in the habit of indulging her constant and diverse requests, made through varied channels, with reserved tolerance.

Ironically, this had led the various rumor-mills in the Imperial Palace to assume that it must clearly be the Emperor's infatuation for his new bride, Wez knew. If D'Arca was aware of his guilt then she certainly wasn't above exploiting it, as she'd immediately set about taking over the entirety of the Tower level and remodeling it into a vast series of sumptuous, extravagant apartments to the standard and luxury to which she very clearly intended to become thoroughly accustomed.

Not that Wez had any problem with any of this; she was Empress now, and not only should a certain standard quite rightly be maintained, but he was more than happy for D'Arca to come to appreciate this unique lifestyle – enough that she may well want more.

Like the storm, the unexpected, disquieting events of the previous night had rolled over with the dawn and could so easily now never have happened, most of the inhabitants of the sprawling Palace waking to another new day blissfully unaware that they had even taken place.

The few who did know, like Nathan, had spend the remainder of the night in sleepless worry, and less than a year ago Wez too would have been fretting, all too aware of the outrageous pressure that Skywalker withstood from all sides. Though Wez had never once worried, as Nathan so often did, that it would overwhelm his Emperor; he had absolute faith in Skywalker's ability to endure for whatever he believed in, even now. In fact, what had once seemed a strength was fast becoming an obstacle; because how did one find a crack in that armor? If Wez were loosing sleep worrying about anything of late, it had become that.

So whilst others set out this morning to make what little repairs were necessary between the storm and the night's events, Wez too set out with the same in mind – more so than most in truth, because if all went well he would do better than repair; he would rebuild. Create anew.

And fittingly, he would start today in the new Empress's pristine apartments in the West Tower.

.

The apartments were a hive of noise and activity, with just fifteen of the thirty-odd rooms complete despite the vast workforce of artisans which D'Arca seemed to have amassed. It didn't take Wez too long to track down the Empress however, since her interest in all this construction seemed limited to the only completed suite, considering fabrics and furnishings with an endless trail of specialist suppliers and designers.

Wez waited patiently, taking his time to study three vast new canvases which now adorned the walls of the waiting room. Skywalker had never taken any particular interest in his surroundings save for the small suite of three rooms to which he always retired in one corner of the vast Perlemian Apartments, so that the Palace remained largely as it was under Palpatine's reign, and Wez found himself quietly curious as to how far the infusion of fresh ideas brought with the new Empress would be tolerated.

Since her taste was toward the luxurious and the grand, it didn't jar here, so Wez suspected that for a while, as long as her influence didn't extend into those rooms utilized in the Emperor's daily routine, she would have free reign. But eventually her confidence would no doubt overstep her caution, and Wez was interested to see what exactly would take place when it did. To date, their interactions had been largely tolerant, but Wez was willing to bet that the new Empress felt she hadn't even begun to stamp her mark on the Palace, or its owner. In fact he was counting on it – among other things.

Larger plans required certain predictable, reliable facts – facts one could count on. Such as D'Arca's clear determination to establish a place for herself here… or for instance, the fact that unlike his predecessor, the present Emperor had the habit of leaving the odd enemy at his back, sometimes as part of a larger plan or occasionally, for reasons Wez had never understood, having taken their teeth he would shy back from the final blow in a fit of conscience which he'd later disguise beneath impressively logical validations. A little trick he'd learned in answering to Emperor Palpatine's constant judgments and demands, Wez knew. Though at other times Skywalker's more recognizable connections to the old Emperor showed through with irrefutable clarity and he would grant them a reprieve simply to break them down again a piece at a time. It didn't really matter – the point was, he had enemies.

Wez glanced about the refurbished chamber, the smell of wet plaster and marble mortar still thick in the air, reflecting on the fact that when rebuilding, whether it be an Empire or an apartment, one must occasionally destroy to regain lost glory. And really, when looking for a likely candidate whose actions in this would fire Imperial wrath without a single supporting voice, there was only one man to go to;

General Crix Madine, ex-Imperial traitor and one of those few enemies who had so far managed to elude Skywalker, though not without bearing the scars. Now there was a man with an axe to grind. There was a man ripe for manipulation – and like the new Empress, Wez now had every intention of taking any opportunity offered to further his own goals.

Thus, what had originally been instigated by himself as an easy way to trigger a few rebel attacks on Imperial targets, and in doing so persuade his Emperor to tighten restrictions, was now morphing into a far more audacious, far-reaching plan. Wez had used Luke's own methods to make contacts within the rebellion and gain access to Madine, handing over morsels of information to direct his attention where Wez saw fit. Nothing which would compromise Imperial security on a large scale - Wez was no traitor; quite the opposite in fact, he was a patriot – but enough to gain trust.

Five times now, long before Wez had decided to make contact, Imperial Intel had brought to light plans by Madine to assassinate the new Emperor. But it was a plan that had never gone past its formative stage that had re-caught Wez's interest of late; Madine's intention to capture and execute the Emperor, the images to be broadcast over the ever-loosening HoloNet.

It was ironic that what had once seemed to Wez the clear argument _against_ relaxing such laws now became the perfect opportunity; if such a thing were to happen, if the Emperor were to be lost and Jade elevated to command of the Empire under such conditions, her reaction would be swift and merciless. She would, quite rightly, be outraged by the actions of the rebellion, turning on them with a vengeance and using every iota of Imperial military might to grind them to dust.

In the short-term she would of course seek to continue Skywalker's supposed 'reforms', but she'd know deep down that it was the loosening of such restrictions that had killed him and in a year or so, maybe less, she would return to her roots and with the minimum of guidance from Wez, would begin to reinstate true Imperial dogma. She'd never have the magnetism that Skywalker's unique mix of ruthlessness and morality afforded him, but then the Empire had held two charismatic Sith Emperor's on its throne; perhaps in that Skywalker was right; it was time for a little stability.

That was Wez's intent; that was Plan A. In an entirely unexpected development though, the change Skywalker had made to D'Arca's title in the complex contract before their marriage, in an effort to avoid a certain happening, had simply served to clarify its potential to Wez. Because if he were able to get D'Arca into the line of succession then she too would be a viable contender for leadership. In fact she may well hold the inside track, considering her background and her support.

True, Wez doubted very much that Skywalker would ever change Mara's position as direct as heir, but when Skywalker had also very helpfully brought up the possibility that the documents pertaining to the line of succession could conceivably be 'lost', yet another avenue of opportunity had begged investigation. Yes, there were five people beside himself who knew the contents of that document, but such an unfortunate event as the Emperor's outright murder at the rebellion's hands would be a very unstable – and therefore fluid – situation.

Despite his attempts to access, remove or potentially damage the document file however, as well as his continued attempts to pull D'Arca into the line of succession, the status-quo had thus far remained intact. Still, it was as well to spread one's risks; there was no harm in continuing to push and support both Jade and D'Arca, as long as neither realized his split loyalties. There were after all, larger things at stake here than a few bruised ego's. It was more important that Wez be allied with – and therefore have some influence on – whoever acceded to the throne than that he maintain a single loyalty anymore in these exceptional times.

And the line of opportunity which had presented itself inspired by the Emperor's recent differentiation of D'Arca's title as Empress Consort had also inspired one further potential, one which would doubtless not have occurred to the Emperor himself as of yet. For now, all that this required of Wez was a subtle clarification of just how fluid – and therefore how advantageous – this situation could be to the ambitious Empress. The rest was up to her.

.

The room into which he was shown was a supreme example of her taste. Previously a suite of four already well-proportioned rooms, it was now a single lofty space, its walls decorated in great slabs of veined, moss-green agate, massive circles three-quarters the height of the lofty room set within pieced pale agate squares, interspersed with granite pediments, the enfilade into a further three rooms of equally grand effect still under construction, though empty at the moment – which was just as well, considering what Wez had come to say.

The Empress herself was a blaze of bright scarlet against the leaden olive greens, the train of her long tabard falling in a graceful pool on the still-dusty floor, unheeded. Bowing politely, Wez set forward, concentrating his mind on the task ahead.

.

Kiria turned as the Emperor's Senior Aide entered, pausing to execute his usual flawless bow just within the room as the servant backed out, leaving them alone in the echoing chamber.

"Good morning, Excellency. The apartments are proceeding most impressively."

Kiria nodded, going through the pretense of polite niceties. "Good Morning Commander Reece. Yes, I hope to be settled by the mid of next month,"

True to his word last night, Wez Reece had indeed contacted Kiria early after breakfast, though he had in truth explained little, requesting instead a face-to-face meeting. When Kiria had tried to push him on the matter of speaking to the ever-reclusive Emperor, Reece had avoided the issue, making the form excuses of pre-existing commitments and citing a time later that week perhaps. Despite this, Reece had seemed at pains to let Kiria know that she had an ally in him, he being as she was, an advocate of the Empire and all that it stood for. It was this little aside that had piqued her interest – and the hope that she could drag a little more from the recalcitrant Aide about the events of the previous night.

"You intend to have the apartments finished by then?" Reece asked now, glancing about.

"Completely." Kiria said, very sure. "They also have a name; I would very much like to call them the Sigmi Apartments, in recognition of the D'Arca family's hold there, though this is of course at the Emperor's discretion. I would very much appreciate meeting with his Excellency to discuss this fact in person, though that seems a little difficult at present." She left the last hanging as a challenge, though she knew the Aide would be far from flustered by the act.

"Indeed Ma'am. The Emperor has a very busy schedule. I will of course present your request, and do my best to ensure that it is met at the first opportunity."

"Perhaps when you do so Sir, you could also ask the Emperor's indulgence in an explanation of last night."

Reece remained still for a second or two. "As I explained at the time, the Emperor was practicing Ma'am. He often practices lightsaber stanza alone, everyone knows this."

"In the middle of the night?"

"The Emperor regularly practices well into the night. As you know, he travels frequently with the fleet so is seldom attuned to Coruscant's time."

"I see," Kiria let a knowing pause hang before speaking out. "Forgive me Commander, I have two brothers and countless cousins who enjoy distinguished careers in the Imperial fleet… I was under the impression that it always operated on Galactic Mean Time as dictated by Imperial City."

Now it was Reece who held silent for a long time, dark eyes on hers, but if he was hoping to intimidate, he'd picked the wrong adversary; Kiria knew damn well that though she couldn't necessarily gain easy access to him, she did have the Emperor's indulgence and intended, in time, to hold easily as much status and power as Wez Reece. Still, his next words threw her.

"It must be very reassuring to know that one can fall back on such a wide group of familial contacts in any… unfortunate situation." Kiria's eyes widened, and he rushed to explain, his expression changing not a whit. "Please don't misunderstand Ma'am, I was speaking only in the broadest terms. If something were to happen to the Emperor for example, it would be most reassuring to know that such a cornerstone of support was both available and amenable.

Kiria frowned, "Nothing is about to happen to the Emperor, Commander Reece."

"Of course not Ma'am. But one must be prepared for every possible future, and it would be most reassuring to know that such support existed, were you to find yourself in the position of sole holder of the Regent's title."

Kiria narrowed her eyes. "My title as Empress is honorary Commander Reece. I have already stated that I make no claims to greater power and have no desire to gain eminence in the line of succession."

"Of course," Reece said soothingly. "Though I regret hearing such, Excellency. Ambition is a strength not a crime, and I always admired you as a woman of extraordinary vision. Were any such situation to arise, it would place my mind at rest to know that I may count on you to take all necessary steps to stabilize the Empire."

Kiria hesitated a fraction of a second, uncertain whether she was reading him correctly. "And who is to decide exactly what _steps_ are necessary, Sir?"

"Those who remain loyal to the Empire, Ma'am," Reece replied, as if this were obvious. "Those who look to the tenets of what made this Empire great and follow them to the letter. I have a particular passion for Imperial law and constitution Ma'am; it is an incredible thing. Every statute was placed for a valid reason. Every one has its place in the greater scheme of the continued stability and prosperity of the Empire. They cannot simply be… pushed aside or dismissed. The continuation of the Empire is paramount."

Kiria waited, silent, and the tall Aide straightened, his voice calming again, that brief spark of obvious indignation layered now with subtler insinuations.

"Our existing constitution is a most comprehensive and minutely-detailed beast, Ma'am. In the last three decades it has written and passed into law every conceivable directive allowing for every possible event, however remarkable," Reece paused for just a moment before continuing smoothly. "You may be interested to hear for example, that it is well established among the Royal Houses and therefore as a legal precedent, that if there were to be a line of genetic heredity founded between the Emperor and the Empress – a legitimate heir – and the Emperor were to die, then existing constitutional law has already decreed that no matter what his age, a genetic Heir would precede _all_ other claims to the throne. And if, for example, such were to happen when the child were still an infant – even if it were not yet born – then existing law dictates that the statute of Lord Protector would be enacted, and a surrogate ruler would hold the throne in trust until its legal successor was of an age to rule."

Kiria narrowed her eyes just slightly, "I'm sure you're aware, Commander, that the marriage between myself and the Emperor remains a political one… for now."

"I am, Excellency. However… if, for example, something were to happen to the Emperor in the near future, I am also aware that certain… genetic samples are stored in a secure location. And I understand that it is traditional not to publicly announce the conception of a child until at least three months into pregnancy..."

He paused, and Kiria understood exactly the offer he was placing on the table, though she remained silent.

"Whether that child had been announced or not before the Emperor's death is irrelevant. It would still be the direct, legitimate genetic heir, and as such would bring into effect the law of Lord Protector. As the nearest surviving relative, the mother of the Heir, be she Empress Regnant _or_ Empress Consort, would automatically take the role of Lord Protector, placing her on the throne until her son is of age." Reece smiled again, giving Kiria time to digest that. "Law is such a fascinating subject, I find. Full of unexpected surprises, hidden unnoticed in its immensity."

Kiria blinked, mind rushing to study the full meaning of all he'd so casually said. "You seem to have invested a great deal of time in studying the complexities of the law, Sir."

"As I said, it is my passion, Ma'am, and I regard it as time well invested for the greater good of the Empire. Such is never wasted."

"For the good of the Empire?"

"Always. Such constitutional tenets are the backbone of its strength. One cannot simply… _change_ aspects of that constitution at will without a legal precedent. I look at you and your House, Excellency, and I see a true understanding of this – an appreciation of the status-quo and the stability it provides… would continue to provide, come what may."

"You see a great deal in the House of D'Arca."

He nodded gravely, "Indeed I do – and in yourself, Excellency. The potential for… greater things.

Kiria looked sharply up at him. "It seems at the moment Sir, that I haven't even the backing to enable me to see the Emperor. Any greater design would surely fall by the wayside at such a basic hurdle."

Reece bowed slightly, "I will of course work hard to try to gain you an audience Excellency. I'm sure you know that the Emperor has a very small and very vigilant circle of trusted confidantes – but perhaps a little support from someone within it may gain you a great deal.

"I have every intention of gaining my own place there, Commander – as a start."

Wez bowed just slightly in preparation to leave, "I am very pleased to hear it Ma'am. I always think it a true crime to waste a capable and motivated mind – one that with the right backing could go so very far."

Kiria nodded just once as the tall, heavy-set Aide backstepped and turned to leave, already running through the conversation again in her mind, uncertain whether she'd misread it. But no, surely not...

What to do with such information was never in question, but how… that was a veritable minefield.

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	27. Chapter 27

Late in the day, Commander Reece had again commed Kiria's Provate Secretary to follow up on his last promise, leaving a message stating the fact that unfortunately the Emperor would still be be unable to meet with her, matters of State pressing. He left a long, affected pause in consideration before stating that he would himself be happy to discuss this further with the Empress if she wished. If that was the case, he added carefully, then he knew for a fact that he would be free from seven onwards tonight, since this was when the Emperor would be otherwise engaged in the Hall of Records, conducting private reading and appraisal following his meeting with his Senior Aides, as he always did.

Kiria didn't miss the implication, and made her unexpected entry to the Hall of Records at seven-oh-six precisely, finding the Emperor sat alone amidst the long banks of data chips, his tailored jacket shrugged off and abandoned on a nearby chair as he sat on another, head resting in his hand whilst he bent over an autoreader, mind absorbed in the task.

"Good evening, Excellency." She didn't bother to act surprised, as if this were a chance encounter; she knew him well enough by now to know it wouldn't work.

Still, when he turned it was clear he'd been caught unawares; he must indeed have been engrossed in his task. "Lady Kiria."

He looked tired; drawn and drained, skin pale with dark rims about his eyes, probably from his sleepless night. But he stood politely as she walked forward, and she knew he'd be gracious enough to concede now that he'd been caught.

"All alone?"

"Busy." Luke glanced to the door. It was bad enough that he'd been paying so little attention that he'd been caught out at all, but to be caught by Kiria was a double frustration in that he felt he couldn't simply turn away or dismiss her, as he would others. Nathan had told him that she'd been outside the Practice Hall last night; that they'd deflected her. That she'd left without protest.

"Yes, so I heard. There's such a thing as too much work Excellency, even for an Emperor."

"If you could just let the Empire know that…"

She smiled, "I'll do my best."

Luke backstepped, hoping to bring this to an opportune end, but Kiria wasn't giving in so easily, "Have you eaten?"

"What?"

"You always appear so very busy, Excellency; I hope you've eaten tonight."

Luke frowned, "Why is everybody obsessed with my eating habits?"

"Perhaps we all feel the need to take care of you."

"I have no need of anyone's care, thank you."

Kiria studied him for long seconds, surprised by the edge in his voice, shaped by his absolute refusal of any concern. "A little company then perhaps, you seem forever isolated."

The barest flicker of wary reticence lined the edges of those distinctive, mismatched eyes. "I'm alone very little, thank-you."

Kiria tilted her head, letting her belief shape her tone, "I think you're alone all the time."

Another shield dropped into place before her eyes, and Kiria found herself backpedaling verbally as the Emperor backstepped physically. "That is to say, I thought you may appreciate the company of someone outside of the official… I mean, company which had no weight of responsibility attached…"

Surprisingly, her flustered reply bought a reprieve, in the form of a half-hidden smile on his lips. "I know what you mean." He glanced quickly away, dashing Kiria's flare of hope. "I have very little time right now, I'm afraid. I have to be at the Practice Hall in less than an hour and I need to go over the details Commander Arco sent regarding the TSC from Fondor Shipyards…"

He stopped, and Kiria knew it must be sensitive information so made no move to push him. Trust such as that came only with time – and proof of allegiance. She carefully kept the frown from her face at his mention of the Practice Hall, knowing that this time it was a scheduled slot – and knowing who'd be there.

At first she'd thought he practiced only the lightsaber in the vast hall, knowing that there were several exceptional traditional sword and saber duelists in the Palace who attended such sessions with the Emperor – strictly by invitation only. But she'd learned a few months ago that he was long in the habit of spending two separate two hour sessions a week practicing hand to hand combat with Palpatine's little assassin, Mara Jade.

She hadn't mentioned it of course – not yet – though she still had it placed at the back of her thoughts as something that would eventually have to stop. Such tasks were for when she'd cemented her position however. Meanwhile she had foundations to build, and that much sought-after trust still required proof of allegiance. Yet she hesitated now; to hold the proof was one thing, to speak it aloud, to tell the facts and not be tarnished by them – to be sure that the Emperor did not shoot the messenger…

She'd wished so very much for something to break through these barriers; something to prove her loyalty and her conviction, something crucial and significant and known to her alone… be careful what you wish for.

He watched her for long seconds as she paused. She didn't blanche beneath that gaze, she was sure of it, but when he spoke he was absolutely without doubt.

"Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question.

She smiled slightly, "Is this how it will go – I am clear as crystal to you yet you seem utterly impenetrable to me."

She'd meant it as a joke, but he looked away, seeming almost apologetic. "I seldom read the thoughts of others unless I have a good reason... but you came here with something to say."

"Your Excellency, may I be candid?"

.

Luke stared at her for a few seconds, trying to calculate what she was actually saying. People seldom genuinely asked permission to speak the truth, because whether one said yes or no, whatever they spoke in reply could be discerned as fact.

Kiria D'Arca was smart and she was calculating, and she looked at Luke always with that same mixture of respect and admiration. Not for Luke himself, he understood, but for the position he held. "Always," he said at last, "I'd expect no less."

"I… didn't know whether to bring this to your attention – I've been considering all day." Again she paused, genuinely nervous, Luke could sense it quite clearly.

.

Kiria glanced up to the Emperor, aware that his unique, uncanny eyes were keenly focused now, his attention intense. She wondered briefly if he were already reading her thoughts, pulling the truth from them before it passed her lips. If so she should push on, for she wanted exact control of her words and the facts in this most careful conversation.

"He… thinks he is being very discreet, I'm sure. He thinks that if he doesn't quite say the words, then what could possible be passed on, but… forgive me Excellency, I'm no ingénue; this particular milieu is my passion and my heritage. I know this setting and I know its language and… and I know sedition when I hear it, however subtly said."

Luke narrowed his eyes, completely attentive, "Go on."

"….. Commander Reece came to me today, in my South Tower apartments. He… indicated that if something were to happen to you, there were ways in which I could come to power."

"What ways?"

Here Kiria stumbled; because much as she disapproved of Reece's motives, the methods he had quoted were in her own mind, though for very different reasons. She fully intended to break into the Emperor's closed entourage and from there into his life. She fully intended to become Empress in the fullest meaning of the term – and that included being the mother of the heir to the Empire. Wez Reece's petty scheming had impinged upon those plans and it was this which had held her to silent consideration for the whole day, uncertain how to proceed.

It would have been so very useful to play Reece along for a while, getting what information she could from him, using him to help her break into the Emperor's closed world… but it would also have been exeedingly dangerous because sooner or later, a Sith Emperor would know the truth – maybe he even did already. There'd been no explosion, no outrage; Kiria realized abruptly that his first words had been neither a denial not an accusation, but only a search for clarification.

Perhaps then, he did already know. Kiria breathed a sigh of relief at her own promptness in bringing this forward, because if it had come to light that Kiria had hesitated for even one day in telling him, the Emperor would rightly have banished her from Court, perhaps even estranged her entirely. At the very least, what little trust existed between them would have been totally destroyed. This way, it gained her something; in fact, it gained her what she was fast coming to realize was the most valuable thing of all in the Emperor's eyes; trust. _If_ she played her hand with care – which she always did in regard to the Emperor.

"He quoted the law, said precedents existed that could see me in power if something were to happen to you. Forgive me Sir, I think the relevant point here is that Commander Reece spoke as if your removal was a foregone fact. It is this I wanted to bring to you. If I speak out of term of your Aide then I apologize, and I hope you understand that it is only out of concern for..." she trailed to silence, her eyes searching his, and he looked away.

But if he wanted no intimate concern from her, then at least now he understood that she had no undisclosed ambitions above those of Empress, either. "You didn't speak out of term… thank you. You understand; this can go no further."

Kiria nodded without lifting her gaze. "Will you have him detained?"

"No."

"No?" She almost tripped over the word in her surprise. "Excellency– " she paused, clearly searching for words.

"The matter is in hand. If I can call on you when the time is right, to repeat under oath what you just told me?"

"Under oath? Yes, of course, but Sir, you have no need to bring this to trial."

"I have every need – and to do so, I need evidence."

"Evidence?" Did he not understand? He surely knew his own supremacy. "But as Emperor, you have ultimate power beyond–"

"No-one's above the law – not anymore."

"Excellency.."

"Luke."

Kiria paused mid-sentence, shocked silent by the open tone of his voice as he continued, "I once asked you if you intended to call me Excellency for ever, and you told me you wouldn't know what else to call me. Well it's Luke."

"Luke." Kiria nodded, aware of a slow, wide smile spreading out from her lips to shape the whole of her face.

"Less of a mouthful," he shrugged quietly, self-conscious, and she thought she heard the hint of something else in his accent now, something far less formal.

"But a good name."

He smiled wryly in realization. "Which you already knew."

"I did," she admitted without hesitation. "But that didn't entitle me to call you by it – until now."

He glanced down, and Kiria pulled back, nervous that she'd overstepped the mark too soon, searching for a safer topic.

"You realize this is the first time I have ever seen you without a jacket on." It was said and received with humor, but there was an underlying message beneath it which Kiria sought to emphasize. "I find I rather like you in your disarray. It seems far more… intimate. I feel I can talk to you about more everyday things."

"Like what?"

She smiled, taking the opportunity openly given, "Oh I don't know – the fact that after I oversaw the re-opening of the Incarta Library to the public yesterday, Baron Gaton's stupid little pug dog was sick on the steps and the redoubtable Lady Bel-Tora slipped on it before anyone could have it cleaned up."

He stifled a slight, genuine smile at that, and it changed his face entirely, melting years of brooding gravity in an instant, and curving the long scar across his cheek to an arched crescent. Kiria felt her own cheeks lift as she glanced down in mock shame. "I had to excuse myself so that I could go and laugh in privacy or I thought I'd burst." She paused, looking to him for some kind of response, hoping to pull him in, "Do you think me very unseemly?"

"I think you very human,"

She set her head to one side, daring herself on, "Since we're speaking of human foibles, may I ask a question?"

The slightest of wary lines set in about his tired eyes, but he nodded all the same.

"Your accent," Kiria said. "It's not native?"

"Most people don't spot that."

Kiria shrugged, "To be honest neither would I, but my father once told me that he remembered you speaking differently when you were first here. I've been trying to quiz Nathan Hallin on it but he's his usual reticent self."

Luke paused, considering; his past was a blank page; Palpatine had seen to that within weeks of his arrival here and had been his usual thorough self. To tell Kiria too much was obviously imprudent given her father's political machinations, even though he was presently loyal to Luke. Loyalty didn't necessarily equal trustworthiness and the ground could change beneath one's feet with incredible speed here. And of course, as time had passed he'd come to be well aware that his ambiguity lent him a certain impact. Still, it felt unfair to withhold so much from the woman who had so far been so amenable. She must surely be aware that Luke sought to keep her at arm's length and he couldn't begin to imagine what it must feel like to be in such a position of both power and helplessness… or perhaps he could remember just that, at Palpatine's hand.

He sighed reluctantly, then allowed, "I was brought up on a Rim world – for protection I suppose." Which was true… from a certain point of view. "If you want to hear my real accent then wait until something goes wrong and I start cursing – I always seem to rediscover it then."

She smiled again, amused, "I can't imagine you cursing."

That genuinely surprised Luke, that she knew him so little. He hadn't realized he'd been so closed to her. "Really? You should come to the Practice Halls and watch me do lightsaber practice with remotes one day. I get a tad descriptive – Nathan says it's been an education."

"I'd very much like to do that," Kiria said easily, the smile widening on her lips. "Come to watch you practice that is – not listen to you curse in a Rim-world accent."

.

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	28. Chapter 28

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.

Mara lay back on the bare floor, the dark macassar wood cool on her heated back, eyes closed, chest still heaving from that final burst of activity.

The last fight of the evening in these combat training sessions had pretty much turned into a no-holes-barred free-for-all as Luke's skill level had advanced, and though she sometimes still managed to floor him in hand-to-hand combat, tonight when she'd finally dropped him he'd swung round as he fell, whipping his arm out to scoop her legs from beneath her and land her on her back with a resounding _thud_, where she'd stayed for the last few minutes, getting her breath back.

"You fight dirty," she managed at last.

"Me?!" Luke lifted his head from the floor where he lay nearby, "I think you broke my rib."

"Quit complaining, you have others." Mara heard a thud as his head dropped back to the floor, and stared up at the distant ceiling, grinning into the gloom. The illumination was always low when they practiced; one seldom had perfect light when one needed to fight; _listening_ was as important as watching. "If it makes you feel any better, I hit my funny-bone when I did that."

"Wait… nope, still hurts."

"See, I'd laugh, but my funny bone's out of action."

"But not your sarcastic bone, apparently." He was speaking in that soft, easy Rim-World accent, and without looking she could hear his smile in the tone of his voice.

They remained silent for a few seconds more, the only noise in the cavernous room their labored breathing. Eventually Mara reached out and nudged him with the toe of her boot, "Okay, get up."

"You get up."

"I don't need the practice."

"True. You're always this sarcastic."

"Hey!" The gentle nudge turned into a loose kick, "I'm _saying_, if this were real, you'd have to get up before now."

"If this were real, I'd have used the Force and stopped you about the same time you entered the hall."

"No Force."

"I'm just saying, _if_."

Mara frowned, half-turning to launch a high-voltage glare. "You'd better use all this some day Skywalker; I'd better not have got all these bruises for nothing."

"Right, 'cos that's gonna go through my head when seven guys turn up with Force-pikes; "_Wait, no, I'll use hand-to-hand instead of the Force, just so Mara's happy"_."

Mara pulled herself onto one elbow to see Luke about three paces away where she'd floored him, still laid on his back, arms out. "I'm just saying, you'd better use this occasionally."

"I'd have thought you'd be happier if I never had to use it."

"I would, but this is you we're talking about. I'm figuring this is the best I can hope for."

Luke half-laughed, "Han used to say I was a trouble-magnet."

"See, I knew he had to have some semblance of intelligence somewhere in that thick Corellian skull of his."

"Hey!" he leaned over to launch a half-hearted cuff at her leg but couldn't reach and clearly couldn't be bothered trying again. "I'm gonna let you off this time."

"You're too kind." Mara pulled herself to sitting, wondering if this was the right moment; whether he'd answer her if she asked, or simply ignore her as he had twice already that day. "So are you gonna tell me what happened last night yet?"

He was silent for long moments, eyes closed. "There's nothing to tell."

"Do you remember everything?"

"I'm fine, it's not a problem. I had a vision, that's all. I just… I guess I let it get to me."

"What did you see?"

He sighed, "Seven men."

"Seven men… that's it? For seven men you almost scorched my eyebrows off?"

He smiled just slightly, eyes still closed, and Mara watched his breathing slow and regulate at an unnatural pace and knew he was drawing the Force to him again now to better see the vision, unsure if he'd even tried to study it himself prior to this moment. Something dense and deep sounded at the very edge of Mara's awareness, trickling up her spine like a shiver and making her scalp tighten, and she blinked quickly to disperse it, accustomed now to this familiar range of feelings, the subtle chord of their shared awareness always plucked if he summoned the Force when close to her.

"I was in the cell – in that damn cell, and… and they were behind me; seven men."

Mara frowned, "What seven men?"

Luke sighed without opening his eyes, and as his jaw tensed she could tell he was considering whether to tell her more. "For once in your life, just say it," Mara scolded, frustrated. "Why is it so damn hard to trust anybody?"

"It's not about trust," Luke said, sitting up and drawing his knees up before him, wrapping his arms about them. "It's about… "

"What?"

He half-turned his head to fix mismatched eyes on her. "Truthfully? I don't think you'll want to hear it."

"That's an avoidance if ever I heard one."

His shook his head, unable to meet her eye. "You walked out on me in that cell Mara. You shook your head and walked away, because you said to my face that couldn't take it. You didn't want to know anymore what was happening to me down there, you didn't want to know what Palpatine was doing. It was too hard, so you just turned away."

And suddenly the pain of her memories was nothing compared to the swell of mortified shame that surged through Mara at the raw tone in his voice; not accusation, not disappointment, just... hurt. Abandonment. He'd never once spoken of it, and she'd never once asked him; never wanted to know the hard, uncompromising truth - and when he never spoke of it, it had been easy to tell herself that he didn't want to tell it; that it was the past, over and done. That it had no bearing on his life anymore; no effect... but the tone of his voice right now spoke volumes - and in that moment, looking at the tight lines of his face as he avoided her eyes, how could she possibly have told herself otherwise?

"Well maybe I'm ready now," she murmured, quietly.

He sighed, turning away, eyes closing, and when the silence lingered Mara began to wonder if he'd decided not to speak at all. Finally he let out another sigh, as if struggling to get his thoughts in order, his voice when he spoke quiet and somber.

"I think it was after you'd gone that he started bringing them in. Red guards. Always twelve. They had force pikes or... or some had a bar, just a hollow bar. Sometimes he'd stay in the room and just watch… sometimes he didn't send them in until he'd left, but they always came. Every time. Twelve guards. First three times a day, then five, then six or seven… I never knew. Sometimes they'd shake me up in the middle of the night to be sure I was awake before they beat me unconscious." He fell silent again for a long time, frowning at the memory. "He took me part down there. Every single day, he carved a little deeper and he bled me dry. Every single memory I have of that cell is absolute horror. Absolute loathing… absolute dread. And every time I think of it, I remember those twelve men."

"What happened to them?" Mara whispered.

"I killed them," he said simply. "I killed them without a moment's regret. I killed them horrifically, violently… and to this day I don't regret it. All I can possibly say in my defense is that it was fast… faster than they deserved… I wonder it I'd be so lenient today."

His eyes gazed without focus into the distant shadows, the slightest of frowns lining his forehead, his voice distant. "And now, suddenly, they're in my dreams again. I'm in that damn cell and they're stood behind me and I know they're there…" he trailed off, unable to continue though he was clearly reliving painful memories in his mind.

Mara watched in silence, aware of how suddenly he could lose his way, of how fractured his psyche, yet how strong he was simply to have survived at all, after Palpatine's influence. But hadn't she always thought that it was Palpatine who had made him strong, through all those trials… for the first time she found herself considering; maybe… maybe he was strong anyway, and Palpatine had simply pushed Luke to the very edge of his limits. Had it truly been to make him realize how strong he was, as Palpatine always claimed… or simply for his own amusement, she wondered.

_He wanted his wolf, _Mara knew – and perhaps it was Luke's particular closely Force-attuned mindset somehow impinging on her own, that specific tone at the very edge of her hearing, but with that thought a rush of images came abruptly to mind, flooding in so quickly and so intensely that Mara gasped against them;

The vision blossomed, cast in scarlet red… an old vision, potently familiar;

..... ..... .....  
_A storm raging against the night…  
__The howl of the hunting wolf…  
..... ..... ....._

Mara rose in a shocked blur and Luke was at her side instantly, knowing a vision had surfaced. "What did you see?"

And wasn't that exactly what Palpatine had asked her, when she'd first seen the vision? Mara frowned, eyes skipping the dark shadows of the cavernous room, "An old vision I think, but I never remember it. I never remember them, just… fragments."

"You saw me," he said without reservation.

_I saw a wolf… had it been you even then?_ Mara shook her head, the vision already fading to haze as they always did, memories of Palpatine's ever-cutting disappointment still sharp as knives.

"You saw a moon," Luke prompted. "Do you remember – in the vision you saw a moon."

Mara looked to him, "Did you see it – did you see my vision?"

"I saw fragments." Luke hesitated, looking away, knowing instantly what was in her mind.

Mara stared for long seconds; "…..Can you... take me back, make me able to see it?"

He didn't turn, "I don't know."

"You can, can't you?"

He shook his head, but still wouldn't look her in the eye, "I don't know. Perhaps. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why?"

He finally turned to her, features hidden in the low light, "I don't think I should take you to a place in the Force that you can't reach alone yet."

"I want to remember the vision – I want to see it. I want to _understand_."

"I'll teach you that if you want me to – but gradually, not like this."

She stepped forward, taking his arms and lifting them so that he held her face in his hands. "Show me?"

He sighed, deeply unsure, torn between the need to protect her and the lingering suspicion that something else had whispered through Mara's vision… the Throne; the Seat of Prophesy. Still, he shook his head against his own curiosity, "You shouldn't go where you're not supposed to."

She smiled encouragingly. "You'll protect me – I trust you. Let me see."

He looked to her – and she understood; _'Let me see'_ and she would; if he did this, he wouldn't simply see into her thoughts; she would see _him_. If he did this, he'd have to let her beneath those perfect shields, the ones he'd spent years building to protect himself.

He shook his head, "I can't."

"You think I'll see the wolf? I always did." Didn't he realize yet that she always had. Perhaps that was even part of what drew her in.

He shook his head, "You don't know what it is."

Mara pressed his hands against her cheeks, the closeness everything to her. "I don't _care_. I don't care what it is."

He sighed gently, momentary stroking her cheeks, his eyes still unsure, full of unspoken fears and concerns – and how could this be the wolf? How could he be?

Then he nodded, just once. Suddenly very nervous, Mara licked her lips. Her heart flipped unexpectedly, skipping a beat in her chest as if in fright, then she caught herself consciously. Squaring her jaw, she lifted her chin, "I'm ready."

In the dark, still room his fingertips were cool against her cheeks, soothing, very real, and she leaned forward into the hands which traced the line of her cheekbone, his closeness intimate, attentive, protective…

"Close your eyes," Luke whispered.

.

Prior to his father's death, and occasionally since, when they had made contact through the Force it had been simply to connect, to search out the reassuring sense of each other. Now there was a purpose, and when Luke reached out to Mara, it was like nothing before–

The floor was gone from beneath the feet with a suddenness that made her jolt, her hands grasping at his wrists, everything which was real whisked from her in an instant as she fell away from herself, heart fluttering distantly, like an echo of reality.

An incredible power took her up and surrounded her like falling into deep, frigid water, so all-encompassing that it took the air from her lungs in a gasp. She was pulled along, dragged into the current with frightening speed, unable to move against it, unable to draw breath within its pressing weight, the dynamic mutations dizzying, nothing solid, nothing understandable in any context she'd known.

Too much – too fast… and with perfect precision it paused, falling back away from her, giving her air and space.

She made the slightest of movements, nodding her head imperceptibly, and it enfolded her again, all about her, protecting and directing, dragging her forward into a whirlpool of power which twisted away and collapsed in about her, terrifyingly kinetic, erratically unstable. She felt herself falling and had no idea of if this were a mental state or whether she fell in reality, whether her body had simply collapsed beneath her. Either way, he was there to catch her, to hold her, to keep her safe and anchored even as he pulled her deeper. And all around her his awareness, his perception, his connection. An intense, hulking mass, a deep primal pull, like the turning of the galaxy, its extent too great to comprehend or define in her concept of the Force. And yet he did – he gave it form, gave it direction, restrained and controlled with skill and poise as if this were the most natural thing in the galaxy – which perhaps to him it was.

And here, now, _here_ was Palpatine's wolf; the shadow creature he'd carved into being with such relentless, pitiless resolve, prowling in Darkness, both hidden and hunting, feral and fierce. It twisted inextricably through everything, limitless power searching to ground, intense and intractable, howling for release, unyielding in its hold, so much a part of him that in places it merged with his consciousness, both answering his will and defining his thoughts.

Yet now, when she thought to see around and through that hulking darkness, to look for those stars in the dead of night… there were parts where there was no connection at all. Where the one withdrew from the other like oil on water. Here, here at the core of his awareness, forever hidden and shielded, here was the truth, and after the brutal, dischordant darkness, awareness of this flooded her with solace; a true understanding of that fractured psyche – because he _could not_ _be_ completely a creature of Darkness; it was too much against his natural state. Whatever Palpatine had done, it would never have gained him his Sith completely; it had forced the Light deeper as Luke had built ever more walls to shroud and to mask it, but it would never destroy it, the very the core of this being who was too enmeshed to ever break free of the shadows… but too stubborn to let go of the light.

Both existed within him, a paradox, each opposing the other, and how could he possibly contain them both, so constantly at odds?

He was pure Light and absolute Darkness.

He was wild, wilful, unwavering determination and flickers of radiant hope thread about old scars so deep and traumatic that they would never heal, the wounds cut into every aspect of his existence. A will at once so driven and so constrained by this that it was both his greatest strength and his deepest weakness. A knowledge of all this.

She wanted to reach out but she didn't know how; had no idea of how to use her own knowledge of the Force to make contact. She was already past all her previous perceptions of the Force and it fired a humbling realization – and a driving desire to know more. She wanted to know, in that instant, what he saw of her.

Then another opening of awareness, an expansion like falling off the edge of the galaxy, too much to possibly begin to comprehend. It stretched the limits of her consciousness, dizzying, immeasurable, opening up her thoughts in a vivid unfurling of awareness, and she tensed against an inevitable shock, some intense elemental jolt as he punched through this final impenetrable boundary; the cold, hard immovable mass of knowledge which Palpatine had instilled in her – of her own limits, the perceived weakness with which he had held Mara for so long.

And it was nothing of the sort – it was nothing at all. No sense of tearing or rending, no thunderous, explosive burst. They passed through like diving into deep water, smoothly and naturally, no struggle at all. And she sensed… now she flinched, the vision rushing in at her like that fall into deep water, enveloping her completely as never before, awareness and knowledge hitting like a body blow, fiercely intense, primal and visceral, details and impressions and perceptions indelibly writing themselves into her awareness…

…

… … … …

_A storm raging against the night,_

_Duplicity and betrayal… everything in flux, everything changing, even herself. Nothing could remain untouched._

_An ashen moon seared blood red, _

_Binary suns eclipsing and fading into twin circles carved into gold, interlocked, interbalanced, interdependent._

_A vast sweep of possibilities tangled about and among them, all futures tracing back to this; this one fate, this one prophesy;_

_Son of Suns._

… … … …

…

Mara jolted with a dry scream, every muscle tensing, every nerve raw, so that when her eyes came wide in shock she was several steps away from him and he started forward, saying her name, hands outstretched.

She backed up, hand to her mouth, stomach heaving, sure that in that moment she would be sick. Too much; too vast, leaving within her the lingering, all-pervading sense of the galaxy turning slowly in infinity, a background grind like bone on bone, she could hear it, _feel_ it.

"Mara, listen – listen to me." His hands were on her shoulders now, and she felt him mentally shunt the shock away, stabilize and steady her. "Breathe – Mara, just breathe. It's okay, it's gone. It's gone now. You're out. "

She looked to him, every possible facet of the vision intact in the fore of her mind, cut with crystal clarity so sharp that it felt like it sliced her very thoughts to hair's-breadth slivers, aware that she was speaking too quickly, tripping over her own words, adrenaline still burning in the back of her throat, "I saw two suns… and a moon, a blood red moon. I saw two circles interlocked, etched into gold… something written on them… I don't think I saw that before–"

Luke frowned, and still immersed in the Force, still connected to him on a level far deeper than ever before, Mara sensed so completely his burst of raw frustration, his deep disquiet. "What?"

"The Seat of Prophesy. You saw the inscription on the base of the throne."

"I couldn't read it," Mara said. "What did it say?"

Luke pursed his lips, "It's irrelevant. It's nothing." Was the prophesy following him still? Did it run with the blood in his veins, as Palpatine had always said?

Mara pushed, unwilling to let this go, "Tell me what it said?"

Luke brought his hands up to rub them over his eyes and back into his hair, his irritation rising. "No. It's over, it's done. The throne's gone, and the prophesy with it. I'm not going to be led by it."

"Maybe it's not trying to lead you. Maybe it's trying to help you."

"Help?" Resentment gave his voice a knife-edge, and for the first time Mara understood the fractures and fears that fed it. "The last time I went to the throne I nearly killed Nathan! I won't be dictated to by it, it doesn't own me. I'm not a slave to it or to Palpatine."

And she understood this too; comprehended just how much Palpatine had influenced him; what he'd done to achieve that level of control. Sensed the dark twists of frustration, resentment and bitterness that colored his sense in the nebulous remnants of the Force which still clung to her. Marveled at that perception, that connection. "Luke, your ability... it's a gift, not a curse. You know that, don't you?"

"You don't understand."

And what could she say… it was true. Nobody did.

But she _could_.

"Teach me," Mara said. "Teach me everything."

She'd never wanted this, never once asked for it before, always believing that it was beyond her reach; another of Palpatine's legacies.

He wrapped his arms about himself, and though the deepened connection was already fading, being gently, subtly narrowed by Luke, she still felt his reluctance with more awareness, more perception of its subtleties than ever before. His belief that simply by existing he was fulfilling Palpatine's greatest aspiration; a single, unbroken line of heredity… His fear that because of this he could err and somehow cause her harm. His reluctance to pass on the knowledge which he still felt on some level had been an affliction. Mara stepped forward, resting her slim hand on his folded arm, believing this now with a greater conviction than ever before. "I trust you."

"Trust isn't enough," he whispered. "It can eat you alive, this power." What could he teach her but Darkness?

Mara hesitated, finally truly understanding the reasons for his caution in the scope of the connection he held – or did it hold him? The intensity of awareneness, the bone-deep awareness of something infinitely vast, like the breathing of the universe… how easily such far-reaching clarity could drive anyone to distraction. Knowing what she knew now, she understood how he would be reduced to sleepless distraction, roaming the Palace in the dead of the night to escape it, unable to sleep without hearing it – _sensing_ it. How intense his own visions must be, striking in the stillness of night, dragging and driving him forward with even a fraction of the clarity she'd just been subject to.

Had he truly thought he could stop them by ordering the throne destroyed, or had it been an act of sheer desperation, as his actions in the Practice Room had been in the dead of night, fixating on that single, complex lightsaber move, driven to repeat it over and over to correct some perceived flaw. In submersing himself so completely, he had drown out the all-consuming sense of this power?

She couldn't say– but it was possible for her to learn, to understand as no-one else could. This connection, this intense communication and comprehension, this bond which fused and united yet left each distinct but aware on the deepest level… how could she let this go? How could she go back now?

'_It can eat you alive, this power.' _Mara shook her head, understanding completely what he meant but believing in him absolutely – because she'd seen him; seen the truth… and she wanted to see it again, to immerse herself in it. "You'll never let that happen."

Still he didn't look up. "This isn't a reason to learn it Mara."

"Isn't this the perfect reason? To understand, to share, to help someone you– "

He glanced quickly up and she stopped; _'Never say it'_, he'd once asked of her;_ 'Don't ever say it'. _She leaned in, "Consider – promise me you'll consider?"

He nodded just once without looking up, and Mara knew better than to push now. She nodded just once before walking from the room in silence, her hand trailing along his arm before it fell free.

.

Luke didn't turn as Mara left, already regretting his promise but unable to retract it. If he did this, if he taught her, it would be for her; for her alone – because she had asked it of him. Was that a good enough reason?

His father's words whispered again in his thoughts; _"Darkness cannot love. The results will be catastrophic and spiral from your control."_

His feelings for Mara had led him to deny that in the past; to try to defy it… and his father had paid the price.

Could he have this weakness – could he allow it without it crumbling his plans to dust and destroying all that he'd sought to protect… including Mara? If so then why, when he closed his eyes and reached out into the maelstrom of the Force to study again the memory of the interlocked circles set into the Seat of Prophesy, did he feel like he was looking at a noose tightening about his neck?

"I am not you," he whispered quietly to his father to the empty room.

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	29. Chapter 29

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**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

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Leia woke, a lingering afterimage from her dream imprinted onto the darkness before her, two interlocked rings glowing in the still silence as if she'd stared too long at their image. She sighed, blinking them away as she glanced about the small berth onboard the battered Rebel freighter Zephyr, indecipherable words of the recurring dream whispering in the shadows.

She'd boarded late that night, travelling part way to her own destination of Kwenn Space Station onboard the Zephyr under the command of General Madine. Madine; Leia sighed and turned over, Han murmuring in his sleep. She envied him his ability to sleep anywhere at any time, whilst she lay awake playing endless scenarios over and over in her head.

Madine; the loose cannon who was running his own ever-escalating little war against the Empire at the same time as Leia was seriously considering the possibility of negotiations.

Even tonight, when she'd boarded, it had become clear that he was in the middle of another unknown mission which he'd never mentioned to the Council, equipment and weapons neatly stacked to the side of the main hold. She'd asked him immediately to explain of course, and he'd suggested a meeting in the morning, intimating that it was of great import. Tired, Leia had allowed the deferral; she was, after all, carrying her own private secrets in her intention to meet again with the Emperor. Who was she to call others for theirs?

Because the truth was that this time it was no longer a harmless meeting. This time she had an agenda and, Force help her, it seemed at least partway in agreement with the Emperor's.

She'd thought long and hard about the Death Star; about Han's claims that Luke – that _the Emperor_ – was trying to give her an indication of his own sincerity on a scale that only an Emperor could do. So here she was, on her way to another clandestine meeting to discuss the possibility of ceasing hostilities, whilst travelling on a ship commanded by the one man who seemed to have made it his mission so stir them up.

Did the Emperor truly want reform for his Empire? Since that first rash of edicts, there had been few others. But the Death Star… oh, that had been a spectacle on a grand scale, and Leia had spent many's a sleepless night listening to Han snore peacefully as she wondered… why just for her?

Because the fact was that by doing so he'd placed her once again in a position where she was the holder of privileged information, and he knew it. Information that if she chose to share it, would damn her as much as it gained her, with the admission that she'd been meeting and negotiating with the Emperor without the Council's knowledge. Why do that? Why give her such key information which she was completely unable to pass on when every day the Alliance polarized more? Why always give her just enough information that she was willing to listen, meybe even to argue his cause, but never sufficient that she could use it as comprehensive proof of his intentions, both to the Alliance and herself?

Why show just her, why not everyone? Why not tell her _why_ she was the sole witness? Why let this go on in such confusion, what did it gain him? Was it on purpose? If he thought he'd widen the split in the Council by persuading Leia to take a more moderate stance against the militant minority then he was wasting his time; there was nothing he could do from the outside that could tear the Alliance apart and he surely knew it. She wouldn't let it happen and she certainly wouldn't do it for him.

And yet… still lurking at the back of her mind was that moment, that incredible moment when the Death Star that she had been so sure would destroy Endor's moon had itself detonated in a fiery blast, an unequivocal rejection of Imperial tyranny, a triumph of reason and rationality, a promise of hope, of potential, of freedom…

And still buzzing in the back of Leia's mind with that same radiant high that had made her heart skip a beat in exhilaration at the time, was that self same thought… _Oh, but what if it was true?_

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Mara crossed the empty stretch of the exercise bay onboard the Imperial frigate Sol Ecliptic at a fast pace, aware that she was a few minutes late for the one-on-one combat practices she and Luke always held, whether at the Palace or on the SSD Patriot. They were on neither tonight of course, but the Sol Ecliptic was a smaller mid-weight frigate and would attract far less attention when it arrived at Kwenn Station for the impending rendezvous, which was why Luke had chosen it. Which didn't however, exclude combat practice as usual, nor the fact that Mara was late.

Luke stood quietly to the far side of the exercise space, staring out of the narrow viewports into the raging maelstrom of lightspeed, though a half-tilt of his head let Mara know he'd sensed her arrival.

He turned as she closed, and it occurred to her that he wasn't dressed for practice, though he wore no jacket, his flawlessly-fitted linen shirt reflecting the bright lights of distant stars beyond the safety of the ship's shields, their sluggish glow distorted by hyperspace. Without specifically looking, she noted that the top two fasteners of his shirt were undone to give him a casual air which belied the clinical military setting, and knew it would have been a conscious choice, wondering at it.

But then, that had been her permanent state of late.

It had been two weeks since they had shared Mara's vision, and Luke had not once mentioned it since. Knowing his reluctance to feel vulnerable and aware of the intensity of the experience, Mara had kept her silence, but it was becoming harder. She had so many questions about what had happened; about the Force, about her request to be taught more… and at least half of them were about the man who stood before her now, squaring his shoulders as she came to a slow stop before him.

"Here." He seemed almost nervous as he held out a small rectangular box, perhaps twice the length of Mara's hand and covered in dark green tapestry, a delicate clasp to one side.

Mara stared at it suspiciously, "If this is to get you out of combat practice Skywalker, then you're wasting your time."

Luke smiled, as unfazed as ever by her brusque tone, "Just take the damn thing."

Frowning, Mara took the box, immediately surprised by its weight; it was incredibly heavy. She looked to him, uncertain.

"You can actually open it," he said dryly. "It's not wired to explode."

Carefully, Mara slid the small catch and lifted the lid…

Resting within, its polished surface reflecting the pure white vinesilk lining… was a lightsaber.

"I made it for you," he said simply. "You'll have to make your own eventually, but this is good enough for now – it's better than what you have. I thought you deserved something with a little more elegance."

Mara took the lightsaber from the silk-lined box, marveling at its feel in her grip, at the perfectly-balanced weight which fit exactly the palm of her hand, the hilt a mix of dark patinated copper and warm rose gold, but very simple, very understated and refined yet obviously hand crafted. In all the time she'd trained with Palpatine, he had never once given her anything other than the simple metal tube with two inset buttons that she still used, as if he'd never thought her quite deserving enough to warrant a more personal piece, as all trained adepts…

Realization brought her eyes swiftly up to his.

Luke nodded, "We start tonight. I'll teach you all that I remember Master Yoda teaching me – but then it stops. I'll not teach you to turn that ability to Sith doctrines."

Jubilant, Mara launched forward, wrapping her arms around him without thinking, feeling him laugh lightly into her hair. She held him for long seconds, face against the side of his neck, feeling the pulse of his throat against her lips.

"So does that make you my Master?" she murmured playfully at last.

"No, I think it makes me your pushover." Luke said wryly, pulling free.

When she finally stepped back to hold the lightsaber out, studying the controls, Luke shook his head, "No, not with that."

Mara glanced up, uncertain, and Luke tapped at the side of his temple, "We start with this."

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Leia stood in the small Captain's ready-room overlooking the Zephyr's main hold, tired from her sleepless night, watching the busy, organized chaos of a detachment clearly preparing for action as she waited for Madine.

Han was already prepping their small shuttle for takeoff, the trip to Kwenn Space Station less than a day's travel away. Leia too was eager to be gone, but despite her hurry she was damned if she would let Madine get away without telling her just what his Special Ops Unit was doing this time. Overheard remarks suggested that they'd just completed some pick-up in the Inner Rim, close to the branch-off of the Hydian and Perlemian shipping lanes – dangerously within Imperial territory – though she'd heard of no action there.

She was suddenly gripped by an outrageous fear that Madine may be taking the Zephyr close to Kwenn, the planet supporting the Space Station where she was meeting the Emperor. How close was his own mission, for their routes to have intersected like this? What could she do then? How would she avoid discovery?

She would have to cancel the meeting until Madine had left the Relgim Sector, his own operation complete – but then its completion would surely summon Imperial troops into the area in response, and make her own meeting with Luke near impossible. Leia shook her head as she watched the busy hold; no, the chances of them both needing to be in the same sector at the same time were rare enough – his operation would doubtless be light-years away from Kewnn; there was nothing of military relevance in the whole system.

Still, when Madine finally entered, a whirlwind of barely-controlled anticipation and offering his apologies for keeping her, Leia couldn't keep the slightest edge of tension from her stance as she met his eyes. "So tell me Madine, what operation are you running this time, and why exactly did you think it necessary to withhold the details from the Council?"

Madine licked his lips nervously; there was something, some light in his eye today, some tension to his stance that hinted at rare enthusiasm. "Forgive my secrecy Chief, but this mission has been in operation for almost a year and the closer it came to realization, the more I worried about leaks. However, today will see its completion, which means that fear is passed, so I'll be happy to explain the details and answer any questions you have. Honored in fact. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

Leia waited, arms crossed, and Madine smiled, that same mix of edginess and anticipation in his voice as he continued. "I have an informer, an Imperial mole. He's been passing on information for almost a year now. He's high-ranking – in the Palace, we think – and he's been a source of very useful information. He gives intel on one subject only and that sparingly, but what he gives is always good."

"Go on?"

"He passes information about the Emperor. His actions, his itineraries. And one thing he's told me is that the Emperor's met twice with a Rebel informer – in person."

Leia felt her ribs tense as the air left her lungs in a slow breath. "Who?"

"I don't know. But I do know that both times, he's traveled undercover with minimal security to hide this fact. And I know he's about to do so again… and this time I'm ready for him."

Lea sat slowly on the chair before the desk, her own heart loud in her ears as Madine continued, his voice a distant drone.

"We'll be proceeding to Kwenn Space Station when we drop your shuttle at the planet itself. That's where the operation will take place; that's where the Emperor will meet his contact with minimum security for.."

"It's me." Leia said quietly, coming to a decision.

Madine hesitated; frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"It's me – the contact he's meeting is me."

The silence was terrible, Madine remaining stone-still, just staring at her.

Leia felt her breath leaving her in a slow, trembling sigh, head buzzing. But she couldn't lie to her own Council - she wouldn't let Luke make her. "It's me. It has been both times, and it is today."

Madine dropped back into his own seat, closing his eyes and Leia waited for the explosion which didn't come - in a way, it would have been easier somehow if it had. Instead it was long seconds before he spoke, voice very quiet. "You were meeting with the Emperor?"

"Yes. The Emperor is Ghost."

"The informer?"

"I didn't know that when I went to meet with him. I thought I was meeting with…" she trailed off, no validation seeming worthy. "I didn't know it was him."

"And the second time?"

"The meetings… were a prelude to an armistice, to formal negotiations. so I agreed to return."

"The _Emperor_ was offering negotiations?" Madine's voice was flatly disbelieving.

"Eventually."

"Ah." The tone of the short word spoke volumes.

"It was an opportunity to open a dialogue."

"And so you entered into... _negotiations_ with the man who killed Mon Mothma?"

"I met with the man who can stop civil war, yes. The man who commands a military army and navy of incomparable power. The only man in the galaxy with the power to stop them without another shot being fired. The man who can bring about democracy by simply– "

"Democracy!" Madine practically spit the word, derisive.

"I'm not saying that I believed him," Leia said calmly. "I'm saying I was prepared to listen to what the man capable of bringing all this about, had to say. And he spoke of reconciliation – of negotiation."

"He has no concept of the words!"

"Then why bother to say them?"

"It's a game – it's all a game to him." Madine's voice was rising now. "You're talking about the _discussion_ of talks, Ma'am – not even that! The possibility of the outside chance of a discussing _leading into_ talks. I'm talking about the guaranteed opportunity to remove the Emperor from office. To remove a Sith from power, to even that playing-field."

"... What?"

"We have a chance - a real chance - to capture him on Kwenn Station. This has been a year in preparation, more than that."

"You can't hold him," Leia said emphatically. "Don't you understand, he's Sith. You can't hold Sith against their will!"

"_I_ can." Madine said with absolute confidence.

Leia shook her head, and Madine turned the automemo on his desk about, pushing it toward her. "The plans to the cell that was installed on the Executor. It was built to hold a Sith. Presumably even Palpatine's favourite went a step too far once every so often."

Leia glanced down at the plans. "Built for _Vader_ to hold a Sith – not you."

"This was built to be unbreakable. The walls are two perfect half-spheres, one inside the other with a vacuum between them, each brick angled and interlocked so that if you try to push them apart the linking gets stronger and if you try to pull them inwards, you're pulling against a vacuum. The more you pull, the greater the vacuum. Each brick is precision engineered to fit and constructed from a high-density TSC aggregate. That's a high strength military alloy used in the manufacture of front-line bunkers because its structural integrity makes it bomb-proof. Once its set, no individual brick can be broken."

"By us! By methods we know!"

Madine was unmoved. "I have other tools to keep him put."

"You're going to keep a Sith captive because you have a strongbox? Who's outside the cell, Madine? Who has to hold the key, who feeds him? How do you get that strongbox off Kwenn Station when it's crawling with Imperial stormtroopers because their Emperor is missing? One mind – any mind he can reach and use, that's all he needs."

"They're not as all-powerful as they like us to think. There are ways to reduce them to normal men, to make them just like us. I've seen Imperial intelligence documents that the Alliance would never have had access to. Documents that were made available only to senior Imperial military officers, documents that don't even exist any more. This is years of research, years of raking through old myths and lore and rumors… they all have a basis; there's some small fact hidden in each of them somewhere."

"You can't just stop him being what he is, Madine."

"No I can't… but I can stop him acting on it. I can isolate him in such a way as to…" Madine slowed then fell to silence.

"How?" Leia challenged.

"I can't tell you that. If you go into that meeting to speak with him – if you hold him there long enough for us to act – I can't tell you anything. I've already told you too much. If he reads your mind, he needs to find nothing of value to him. Chief, I _guarantee_ you that I can catch him and I can hold him. All you need to do is draw him in – get him to the meet point that I specify and keep him talking for five minutes so we can move everything into place. That's all I need – I can do the rest."

"No, I can't get involved in this."

"You already are, Ma'am - and it's by the Emperor's hand. You were when he first chose to try to draw you out – when he first contacted you as Ghost. He's been _using_ you for years, and it's time to repay the favor. This is an opportunity to make a near-perfect plan cast-iron. Draw him in and we'll do the rest."

"I won't have the Alliance be responsible for seeding anarchy."

"It won't create anarchy, it will weaken the Empire's hand – considerably. It will certainly put our cause on everyone's lips – prove that we're a force to be reckoned with. If you want to bring them to the table, then do so with a strong arsenal - and without a Sith in power"

"And if the Emperor was the only one who would have brought them to the table? What have we done then?"

Madine shook his head. "With all due respect Ma'am, if he'd ever wanted to further democracy, he could have _not_ returned to the Empire seven years ago. He could have remained here and served the cause of freedom. If he wanted democracy, it was right here, struggling to stay alive. But he left; he returned to Palpatine and took you with him. Think! Think what you're doing – you're actually listening to the man who persuaded you once before that his motives were genuine when they were lies. You're trusting the man who handed you over to Vader and Palpatine!"

Leia wavered, uncertain, and Madine lowered his voice, "Ma'am, he comes to you in secret; no troops, no fleet… does that sound like a man who intends to keep his word? Does that sound like a man who truly wishes to open negotiations leading to the recognition of the Alliance and its tenets? Why not bring others; council, arbitrators… why bring no-one, unless you have no intention of keeping your word.

"And if he genuinely wants this?" Oh, it was weak, even to her ears, but what else could she say? _'I have a gut feeling'_ – how naïve did that make her sound. "Should we remove him from power even if…"

"You're asking me if we should remove a Sith from power? Yes!"

Leia looked down, torn, and Madine shook his head as if he felt he were being forced to state the glaringly obvious. "You _cannot_ trust him! Remember who he is, who he was. Remember what he did to us – what he did to Mon. And now you think you can trust him? Why?! What's happened in the interim to persuade him to come to the table? Nothing!"

"We can't do this in isolation, Madine. It has to be planned as part of a larger strategy."

"We don't have the luxury of choosing our moment in this, Ma'am. What we do have, for the first and perhaps the only time ever, is a genuine, guaranteed method of accessing him and holding him. We have, for the first time in years, a chance to remove an Emperor who holds the galaxy under oppressive rule. We have, for the first time, a chance to even the score, to level the playing field… _that's_ what we want, isn't it? That's what we need. That's what Mon gave her life for. That's what we've _all_ been fighting for – or am I mistaken?"

"No… no, General, you're not mistaken, but the timing…"

"The timing couldn't be better Ma'am. The timing's perfect. We stop whatever underhand games the Emperor's playing in contacting you, and we use that game against him, to lure him in."

Leia looked up, frowning, and Madine pushed on, thinking on his feet.

"We were going to send out our own man; contact the Emperor on the Rebel frequency we'd been told he uses with his informer, and change the venue to a place of our choosing, one that's been prepared in advance. Now we don't need to rely on that subterfuge to get him into the trap. Now we have the real contact, and what's more she's unquestionably loyal to the Alliance." Madine paused, "You can change the venue – you can lead him in. You want it to go smoothly, safely?" madine nodded decisively. "Then you can make it. You can make it watertight."

Leia looked down again, mind racing… "If we do this…" she looked up to Madine again, voice steel. "_If_ we do this, he stands trial. He stands trial according to recognized Old Republic law, with a judge and jury."

Madine's face hardened slightly. "That would be an extended, time-consuming process which…"

"He stands fair trial."

"I don't know if I can hold him that long."

Leia's eyes narrowed. "Then what had you intended?"

Madine remained silent – and that was all she needed. "He stands trial, Madine. We're not murderers. We're fighting to _restore_ justice… we have no right to put ourselves beyond it."

"These are extenuating circumstances which..."

"No – _nothing's_ beyond the law, especially here. If you're uncomfortable with this, if you feel I'm making a unilateral decision, we can wait and put it to the Council."

They remained silent, eyes locked together… and slowly, jaw grinding, Madine let out a sigh. He knew that despite everything, he had only two supporters in the otherwise moderate Council. No-one else would back him, not in this – and by the time he'd argued his case, the brief window of opportunity would have passed. "That won't be necessary Ma'am. I'm sure that your views represent the Council as a whole."

"Then we put him to trial."

Madine nodded once, prepared to concede this – for now. "We put him to trial."

.

.

.

The small hologram in the Captains ready-room aboard the Zephyr flared into life in a bright scatter of light, Tag Massa's face appearing. They'd dropped out of lightspeed close to Kwenn Station and Leia had asked for a few moments to comm her old ally, knowing that Tag always fretted when Leia went on such meetings, always comming the Captain of whatever vessel Leia had traveled on just beforehand and several times during such actions.

"_Better to be sure,"_ she always said. She'd always looked out for her, Leia knew; always.

Now Tag smiled easily, voice as confident and unshakeable as ever. "Good morning Ma'am. Everything in hand?"

Leia hesitated no more than a second, but it was all that Tag needed. "Something's happened, hasn't it? Something's wrong."

"No… no, nothing's wrong, just… a change of plan – a big change in plan." Why did she feel like she was admitting a mistake – like she was asking absolution?

"I have nothing reported here..." concern flooded Tag's voice, her eyes going down to what must be a screen out of the Holo-recorder's line of sight. "Are you under threat?"

"No, they've… Madine came to me this morning. He has a way to catch the Emperor – a way to hold him."

Tag straightened, eyes widening. "Is he sure?"

"He seems so. He can't tell me the details, because I'm the one who's meeting with Luke to– "

"_You?!_"

"He knew Tag. He already knew someone was meeting with the Emperor – that's what his whole mission was set around. He just didn't know it was me."

"So you told him?"

"Yes. This has been kept quiet for too long – we don't work like that."

Tag had her hands up, rubbing her face, clearly at her wit's end. "You must know something?"

"I know Madine has some kind of holding cell… that's it. Don't make me think about it, Tag – I have to put it from my mind."

Tag shook her head, face pale. "Don't do it. Don't authorize it and certainly don't become involved."

It wasn't until Tag said it that Leia realized why she had contacted her; she'd wanted to hear someone say that. She'd wanted it so very much… Leia scowled, angry at herself for needing it rather than at Tag for saying it. "I'll be fine."

"Don't do it – not this time. Bring the plans back, let the Council see them, let them be checked and approved. Don't do this now."

"It has to be now, everything's in place. It could be months, even years, before we get another chance."

"What about the talks? You said yourself that he seemed genuine. You're going to throw everything away for another of Madine's schemes – one you have no knowledge of. It may have a hundred holes in it; it may be littered with flaws."

"I very much doubt that with Madine."

"No? Like the fiasco at the Fondor Shipyards was? We still don't even know what it was for!"

""TSC," Leia said. "It was for TSC. It's the military aggregate they needed to construct this holding cell – they had some at Fondor."

Tag blinked, but wouldn't be derailed. "Where has the plan even come from?"

"It's been in preparation for some time, apparently."

Tag was staring off again, obviously at her screen, "I still have no deviations from the Zephyr's pre-arranged agenda listed here; I have it scheduled as on a supply mission in the Inner Rim. This is outrageous – he can't continue to operate under these conditions!" Her eyes whipped to the lens, "Ma'am _please_ reconsider – just a delay. Ask Madine to send a copy of the plan to me here now. Wait until I've looked over it."

"We don't have time anymore."

Tag almost stood now, such was her alarm. "You're talking about kidnapping the Emperor – the Emperor! The response will be incredible! Are you _sure_ this is the right action? Madine has no idea, he has _no idea_ what he's trying to do. If he makes this attempt – if _you let him_ and he fails, what do you think the response will be?"

"And if he succeeds? Think what we've done…"

"I am," Tag said gravely. "Because either way, you will have cast your lot – and therefore the whole of the Alliance's – in with the radicals. There's no coming back from that."

There was a quiet knock at the door to the ready-room and Leia lifted her head. From beyond came the muffled voice of the Second Lieutenant, "Ma'am, we've just picked up a frigate entering orbit – a Corellian DP-20 Gunship – the General think it's our bird. We need to go black."

"I have to go, Tag." Leia said quickly, suddenly torn.

"Leia! Think about what I've said, please – and have the plans sent to me."

"We're going dark."

"Please – have them transmitted before you do."

"I will – I promise." Leia cut the connection, rising to return to the bridge… at the door she paused, Tag's pale, stricken face coming again to her mind; _"Don't do it. Don't authorize it and certainly don't become involved."_

Was that really why Leia had contacted her – to hear someone say those words, to be given that justification? Because she _had_ wanted to hear someone say it, she knew that now. She'd truly wanted to hear someone say it.

.

.

Madine slowed just slightly in his walk across the hold when he saw Solo leaning against the entry of the shuttle he would be using to take Chief Organa down to the surface, but he didn't stop or change course. The Corellian knew what was happening of course; Madine had heard the raised voices before Organa had bundled him onto the shuttle and closed the entrance hatch, and it was a good half-hour before she came out again, alone.

What exactly had been said Madine didn't know, but Solo had spent the interim period skulking close to the shuttle with a face like thunder, and the Chief had found a hundred and one reasons to stay close to the bridge, restructuring the small group of guards she'd be taking with her so that Solo remained with the shuttle. Clearly he didn't approve, but he also didn't want to leave the Chief behind; a pity – Madine had nursed a private hope that the Chief's complicity might just be too much for Solo and he'd finally storm out of here on that decrepit old freighter of his and not come back.

It didn't matter though; what mattered was that Madine's plan was not only going ahead, but it was now doing so with the collaboration of the Chief of Staff. Everything was go, and as long as Leia Organa stuck to her word, this would go by the numbers. Which she would; Organa was, to Madine's mind, too young and too idealistic to hold the position she did, but she at least had the political savvy to know not to back down without fair warning once she'd given her word… though just in case, Madine had gone out of his way to remain unreachable, and would stay so until Organa was safely off the ship.

To the edge of his vision Madine saw Solo's chin raise, and wasn't surprised when the smuggler spoke, pushing upright.

"A little advice, General."

Madine considered walking past without stopping, but couldn't bring himself to let the Corellian think he'd been intimidated. So he stopped, turning head-on to Solo. "You have something to say, pilot?"

"Just a little friendly advice General – we can all use that from time to time, huh?"

"I hardly think you have anything of value to tell me, Solo."

"I'm hurt – and to think that just the start of this year you were tellin' me how we were so very alike; that _is_ what you said, isn't it?" Solo clicked his fingers in feigned realization, "Oh, but that was when you were tryin' to get details about the cell onboard the Executor, wasn't it?"

Madine ground his jaw but said nothing as Solo continued, pushing himself up to take a few steps forward, the embodiment of casual amity beneath a core of tight antagonism.

"But you know what's weird? I don't think it was that far from the truth – I got some stuff in common even with the likes of you. You see, I can see where you're comin' from in all this." Madine's eyes narrowed, but Solo nodded, pressing on. "Really, I can. I can see where it all fell apart… see, you lost Mothma, and she was your conscience. She kept it all in check; kept the bad stuff back – and I know just what that's like. Except that I still have Leia. I know I'd go crazy if I lost her, that I'd be looking for the same revenge, the same payback as you are right now…"

Solo shook his head slowly, "But not at this cost. See, that's where the resemblance ends; I'd know when I'd crossed the line – I'd know when I was overturning everything she'd ever believed in, everything she'd fought for, just to give me a chance at hurtin' someone."

Madine's lips pressed to a thin line, eyes narrowing. "You didn't know Mon like I did, and if you claim for a single moment otherwise I'll put you down where you stand, Solo."

"No I didn't. But I knew her well enough to know that she'd never have agreed to this."

"She would have put her name to it in a minute for the chance to bring that son of a Sith down."

"Not when there were peace talks in the offing."

"Please! You're not that naïve."

"No I'm not – and I think they're genuine. What does that tell you?"

"Nothing more than I haven't always known." Madine looked Solo up and down as he took a step closer and Solo straightened, both men looking to intimidate the other. "You listen to me – you take one step to interfere with this and you're facing a Court-Martial…"

"Don't worry Madine, I've given my word – to someone who I'd care to keep it with. Though this is the last time... this is it. I'm through with the dirty little games you and your pals play. I'm through with your thinkin' you got carte blanche to just pull anyone into your private little war."

"You know where the door is."

Solo let out a rough laugh, "Seriously?! You seriously think I stay here for you? You think I give a damn about your little club and whether it flies or falls? You think I give a damn about anything you say?"

"Considering I'm your senior officer, you should."

"Yeah well, I don't do too good with authority."

"So I understand… is that what they wrote on your report at Carida?"

Solo tilted his head. "I dunno – is it what they wrote on yours?"

Madine crossed his arms, "They wrote '_Likely to go far'_."

"Yeah? They mention which way? Me, I got a hundred places to go, a hundred people who'd help me. Where would you go, Madine? Who'd help you in a crisis? You're here because you have no-where else to go; that's the truth of it. Remember that."

"I'm here because I believe in democracy."

"Really? How many people got to vote on whether your latest little grudge-match went through? Let's see…. you…" Solo rolled his eyes, making a parody of counting on his fingers, frowning now. "Okay that's it, I'm out. I guess basically it was just _you_."

"And I should be bothered by that?"

"You tell me?"

"Am I bothered that I'm right – that I have the conviction to push my vision forward? No – not surprisingly."

"Oh," Solo tilted his head dryly, "careful Madine; sounding a little… well, like an Imperial there. You know the old maxim; take care that in fighting your enemy, you don't become it."

"I don't think there's any danger of that."

Han clicked his fingers again, "Oh no that's right – you already _were_."

"I'm not ashamed of my past Solo. It gave me the strength of my convictions today. Gave me the skills to back them up. Gave me the knowledge and the experience to make solid judgments; bold ones." Madine looked Solo up and down, summing him up and dismissing him in the same glance. "I've dealt with people like you my whole life in the Empire; the dregs and the lowlifes who just won't go away; who just gather at the edges of society like scum."

"We're gonna have to go out and find you a new pair of Imperial-issue jackboots to stamp around in soon, handin' out the law."

"Because I know the likes of you for what you are?"

Solo straightened again, resting his hand casually on the butt of his blaster. "I dunno, maybe you're right; I've kicked about with the dregs for a while, lived among 'em. I kinda like it down there."

"Feel right at home?" Madine drawled.

"Pretty much," Solo nodded, unoffended. "Most of 'em are better people than the average Imperial Officer. At least if they're gonna stab you in the back, they have the guts to walk up to your face and show you the vibroblade first. And down there, we don't make a lot of noise and waves. People like me… well, we don't go in for all that. We're just point and click people, you know? Know it don't show it. No threats, just facts."

"Get to the point Solo."

"The point is you're trying my patience. You're putting those I care about at risk and I don't like that. You're stacking them against each-other for your own little war and using guilt trips and power plays to hold 'em there… and I _really_ don't like that."

Madine almost laughed, "Are you threatening me… you?! Some mediocre, backwater smuggler with delusions of his own importance. If it wasn't for Organa, I'd have stood you in front of a firing squad six years ago, for the company you kept."

Solo didn't even blink. "You know what's really sad is, I believe you. But let me give you a little advice – something to think on."

"I don't need your advice, Solo – and believe me, your smartmouthed threats are wasted on me."

The edge of a smile tugged at Han's lips. "You don't want advice that's fine, I can see where you coming from." Solo straightened slowly, body tilting forward in warning. "But believe me when I say that you're on _very_ rocky ground Madine, and listen to me when I say this, because it's the last piece of advice I'll ever give you; don't make me come after you. Not for Leia, not for Skywalker, not for anyone. I don't like what you're doing – I think it's underhand and I think it's dirty and if it were up to me, it wouldn't happen. You are, I promise you, barely on the right side of me toleratin' you and that's a _real_ thin line. That's a hairpin trigger. So my advice is this; don't push your luck puttin' Leia in the line of fire and don't push your luck with Skywalker. _If_ you manage to catch him – and that's a big old _if_ – don't let me hear anything I don't like in his treatment. Don't let anything happen to him that you're not happy about someone else doin' to you, cos believe me, someone will.  
"This is the one and only time I'll say it; don't make me an enemy, Madine. Don't make me come after you." Solo turned away, his eyes never leaving Madine, his last remark passed as a low growl as he walked slowly off. "That is, believe me, one of the best pieces of advice you'll ever get."

.

.


	30. Chapter 30

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.

Nathan sat in silence behind the wide Captains desk, rearranging the items on it as he had a habit of doing, as Luke stood to the back of the room gazing out into the inky darkness without comment, eyes on the looming bulk of Kwenn Space Station and the swarms of small and mid-range freighters, cruisers, frigates and yachts which hung in apparent chaotic disorder about it, unintimidated by the relative light-weight status of the Sol Ecliptic, carefully engineered to be the only Imperial presence here today.

It had been an unexpectedly busy morning, to Nathan's mind. Well, they had actually expected today to be hectic, but events had taken an unanticipated turn when, with less than three hours to their meeting, Organa had sent a brief message on the secure channel she used with Luke and named a new venue, almost on the opposite side of the station. She'd transmitted all the coded reassurances that everything was fine, and the Station itself had reported no noticeable activity, but it had still induced a flurry of activity onboard the Sol Ecliptic.

A small team had been on the station for five days already, watching, and they'd done a walk-by on the new venue, an old midsize Class VI bulk freighter in one of the vast long-stay docks at the lowest levels of the Station. Records had the _Wasp_ listed as being in the same full-atmospheric berth for the last two months under repair, and the walk-by had pretty much confirmed that, a few mechanics hanging around the bay and the main sublight drives disassembled and laid out across the large bay floor.

After a brief discussion they'd decided to go ahead with the meet, with a dozen extra plain-clothes operatives placed close to the bay. Nathan also knew that without asking permission, Reece had placed another two dozen plain-clothes op's in and around the area, and was now spending his time trying hard to avoid being close to Luke, presumably in case Luke sifted that fact from his thoughts.

Fortunately, Luke hadn't really noticed yet; he'd been… distracted for the last few days to Nathan's mind, and had enough problems on his plate without the unexpected venue change this morning, dealing with which was now taking his full attention. Aside from it, Nathan knew damn well that Luke would still have a good portion of his thoughts on preparing himself for another round with Leia Organa, keeping one eye on larger developments and how the meeting fit into his own greater plan. Added to that his present subtle, understated courting of the Royal Houses and his knowledge that another round of edicts were about to be made public which would further relax the constitution, along with all the usual commotion _that_ engendered… and of course, at the back of Luke's mind would also be D'Arca.

No matter what he said aloud, Nathan knew damn well that Luke felt guilty about Kiria D'Arca; but he also knew that something had happened in the last month to change Luke's view of her somehow—to soften it. He'd watched them quietly for the past few months since the 'wedding', as they'd found their way around each-other and the deal they'd drawn up, and on the surface it had seemed strictly business, but Nathan had a niggling doubt that D'Arca saw it entirely that way. She certainly seemed to expend a good deal of her time in between public engagements making subtle inroads into Luke's life, smart enough to move at his pace.

She'd even turned up at two of the group practice sessions recently. Held twice a week, these practice sessions were when Luke and a few favoured and capable, if more conventional, duellists—Mara among them—would hold head-to-head lightsaber duels with practice sabers at an incredible pace. Luke practiced often with 'droids for greater speed and agility, but still preferred the unpredictability of sentient opponents.

Nathan often tended to the walking wounded after these sessions and had seen the injuries; simulated blades or no, they took chunks out of each-other and no-one seemed to notice, reminding Nathan all over again of just how undesirable any but the most sedate exercise truly was. A delicate little thing to his own mind, needing to be treated with the utmost care, Nathan's idea of sport was to place an each-way bet on the madrig races down at the open track in racing season, then settle back into the stands with his macrobinoculars and a chilled bilini.

Mara, needless to say, hadn't taken Kiria D'Arca's recent appearances very well. In fact more than once, Nathan had found himself wondering whether he should try to step quietly up behind her and just gently take the lightsaber from her hand, afraid that given the slightest provocation, withering glares wouldn't be the only thing Mara threw at the Empress.

Mara… something had changed there too in the last day or so—in the way Luke was treating her and the way that he watched her when she wasn't aware of it. Luke had been training her—Nathan knew that, though he doubted anyone else did—so perhaps his seeming protectiveness of her lay with that… but then again maybe not; Mara had never struck Nathan as the type who needed protecting. Holding back, maybe…

His thoughts went naturally back to Kiria D'Arca, who had remained on Coruscant, as she always did when Luke travelled with his fleet. Despite his new trust, Luke still kept the Empress outside of his present retinue, though Nathan wouldn't be surprised if that were to change; despite Luke's attentiveness to Mara, D'Arca was still pushing resolutely forward with her own private schedule—and somehow, Nathan didn't see Mara as being part of that.

Yes; there was a man stuck in between a rock and a hard place… admittedly, it was the kind of problem that many other men would give their eye teeth for—never let it be said that Luke didn't like strong women who set out every single day to bend the worlds to their will—but still…

He was interrupted in his silent musing when the red-haired side of this particularly thorny problem entered the room beside Reece, Mara sparing Nathan a brief nod as Luke turned, frowning at her.

"Why are you in combat dress?"

Mara looked down, "I'm not."

"You're in civilian clothes and you have a blaster, a vibroblade and a lightsaber on you."

Nathan looked her up and down; she wore a fitted, sleeveless gilet in chocolate brown hide and dark, overstitched leggings with brown, knee-length boots which both laced and buckled, sporting the kind of flat sole that lent itself to drop-kicks and high-speed pursuits. She had not a loose piece of clothing on her, even her hair braided back. How exactly she was concealing this small arsenal he didn't know—perhaps that was your first lesson in assassin's class. He'd spent his formative years learning to stitch people up and she'd spent hers learning… well, quite the opposite.

Mara didn't even bother to ask Luke how he knew—clearly it must be a Force thing, Nathan reflected wryly.

"Well we're due down on Kwenn Station in…"

"I am, not you."

Nathan almost flinched; if Luke liked headstrong women, then he still wasn't afraid to give them orders.

Mara frowned, "I always come."

"Not this time."

"Why?"

"It's too dangerous."

Again Nathan suppressed a wince; now he was just _trying_ to get her back up.

"Dangerous? What's dangerous is to leave you on your own. Why shouldn't I go?"

Luke hesitated briefly, his tone amicable, if decisive. "You work it out Mara."

Reece stepped forward—stupidly or bravely, Nathan couldn't decide which—in a diplomatic attempt to smooth things over. "The Emperor has a point, Commander Jade."

"Point?" Mara turned on Reece. "I would have thought the point was that I'm his bodyguard and that's kinda difficult to do from a distance of two thousand clicks."

"You're also a Senior Aide and…"

"Please," she rolled her eyes, arms crossed.

"You're a Senior Aide," Reece continued, undaunted. "Firstly, it wouldn't do for you to be– "

Mara tipped her head, "Don't—_do not_—start quoting numbers at me, Reece."

"I'm simply stating the facts; as second in line to the throne, logistically, yourself and the Emperor shouldn't.."

"Fine, I abdicate that position."

"Be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable. Who goes in with him if not me?"

"Commander Clem has several exceptional…"

"Please! Bring them in here now and leave us alone for one minute. We'll see who walks out of this room and who's on the floor."

Luke's voice was quiet, but the resolve in it turned everyone's head. "You're not going, Mara, that's the end of it—this isn't a discussion. I'll take Vassigo."

Nathan straightened slightly in his chair and Mara glanced to him, frowning. With a conspiratorial, encouraging nod he indicated the door, and pursing her lips, Mara took the more politic option for once and turned to leave, Reece following her, undoubtedly to inform Vassigo of the change in plans—and to stay beneath Luke's radar, Nath reflected wryly.

.

With the room empty save himself and Luke, Nathan knew he had a better chance. And since Luke probably already knew his intentions, there seemed little point in prevaricating.

"May I ask why exactly you're excluding Mara?" he asked quietly.

"No." Luke said simply.

"Ah."

Silence held for long minutes, in which Luke stared resolutely out of the viewport, hands clasped one on the other behind his back, so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Nathan rearranged the items on Luke's desk again, glancing casually at the stats of the _Wasp_, whose ID and freighter type had been downloaded into the Ecliptic's files; if Leia Organa was using it for the meet, then that meant that it was a Rebel-owned freighter and its stats were being logged as such across the Imperial military network. Whatever else Luke was hoping to achieve in his dealings with the Rebels he was still a realist; a Rebel ship was a Rebel ship and intel was intel.

Nath's mind went back to Mara. "Is it to do with your training her?"

"No."

"Well then I'm confused. You trust her, don't you?"

"Nathan…" there was a warning in Luke's voice now, but Nathan simply took that as meaning that he was getting close to the truth and plowed on, aware that he was often the only voice of truth; the only one who pushed Luke.

"You want to know why you can't trust Mara? It's because you haven't forgiven her for your father's death, and you can't do that because to do it, you'd have to forgive yourself as well, for the same reasons."

"This isn't…"

"No, hear me out. It's not Mara you don't like, that much is obvious; if you did she'd be long gone but she's still here. I don't know what she did and the truth is that I don't think it matters—and nor do you. What matters is what _you_ did—or what you _believe_ you did. It's because of that you're holding her at arm's-length; you don't like what _you_ did. " Luke looked down, uneasy, but Nathan pushed on. "I know you, I swear I know you better than I know Reece sometimes, and I know you blame yourself for whatever happened that day, don't you? In fact, don't even answer, because I know I'm right."

"It wasn't Mara's fault, I know that." Luke said quietly. Yes, he'd been cut deep by Mara's actions, but he knew Palpatine, knew the power games and the subtle plays his old Master had always combined to such devastating effect. The truth was, it wasn't Mara's fault; it was his, for ever telling her. He'd been responsible for his father's death, he knew that absolutely.

"Luke, it wasn't your fault either. But until you accept that your father made his own decision of his own free will, then you'll always hold yourself responsible. You said yourself there was no fight; that it was a single blow. I think he didn't fight for a reason Luke; I think he wanted to pass that message on to you—that he _chose_ to free your hands. He could have fought, he could have tried to escape, but he _chose_ his path. Don't diminish that by holding yourself or anyone else responsible. Give him this; this claim, this resolve, this decision. Give him this and be proud of him—because that's what he would have wanted."

Luke shook his head, stepping back. "I can't do this now. I have to go."

"Let me come." Nathan had risen and taken a step around the desk before he realized it, aware that something was going on here, that some new fact was troubling Luke more than he would admit.

"No."

"Why?"

Luke studied his friend; the nervousness in his face and his sense, the tension emanating from him now, though he strove to remain casual. He knew something was going on; he wouldn't be Nath if he didn't. If he knew the truth about Reece… what would he do? If he knew the truth about Mara… did she even know herself?

"Not this time, Nath."

"Why not?"

Nathan's voice was cracking, such was his frustration, but still Luke couldn't bring himself to say it aloud, not to Nathan. He looked away, reminded of the delicate line he was treading. The temptation to ask Nathan, even obliquely, about Reece's actions was burning; if anyone had noticed any change or unusual behaviour, if anyone had any clue, however small, as to what Reece was planning, it would be Nathan. But of everyone, Luke depended on Nathan the most, despite his friend's relationship with Reece. He couldn't put Nath in that position; wouldn't use him without Nath's knowledge and certainly wouldn't put him in a position where he had to choose sides.

When he had proof, he would tell Nathan. He could do it then. When he had independent proof, Nathan would know it wasn't Luke's doing; that he'd had no hand in it. Luke had too little left to risk it over Reece's betrayal. He wouldn't lose Nathan when he lost Reece, he couldn't let that happen, wouldn't take that chance. Any personal risk paled before this final loss of friendship.

"Nath… just.. be careful. Be careful who you trust, all right? Things can change here so quickly, you know that, and I don't want you to be caught in the middle of it."

Nathan frowned, shaking his head, "You and Wez, with your secrets and your intrigues, what are you cooking up now? He said pretty much the same thing to me yesterday, you know that?"

Nathan studied Luke for long seconds as he stared out into nothing, a heavy frown darkening the shadows about eyes already shaded by too little sleep, his reticent silence insular and brittle.

Sighing, Nathan looked for a new tack, glancing away and burying his worried expression completely as he leaned back against the desk with exaggerated ease, plucking a subject from the air, the more obscure the better. "So when are you going to give me my own Star Destroyer?"

Luke turned, dragged from his reverie by the unexpected, "What?"

"My own," Nathan grinned blithely. "You keep having them built and giving them to members of your navy… when do I get one?"

Luke stared at him for long seconds, but the ploy had worked, his brooding mood broken, and he shook his head, stifling a smile. On the display shelf to the far side of the ready-room was the usual display of scale models of ship-types, and Luke took the heavy, small-scale cast replica of a Star Destroyer and walked back, giving the hand-sized, intricately-detailed model to Nathan, "Here. Let me know when you have your naming ceremony."

Nathan stared at it, "I was thinking of something a little larger."

"I'll tell you what," Luke said good-humoredly, "if you haven't broken that or lost it in five years time, I'll think about it."

"You're on." Nathan said gamely.

Luke watched him a second too long, bringing Nathan's eyes up. "What?"

"Did you think about my proposal?"

"What proposal?"

"I asked you to think about becoming a diplomat."

Nathan frowned, "Were you serious? I didn't think you were."

"Of course I was serious."

"I don't want to be a diplomat. I don't want to be in the Navy either, come to that. What's wrong with being your physician?"

"You're not my physician, you're a Senior Aide."

Nathan tilted his head, "Well then how come I'm the one who always stitches you up?"

"I'm serious. I just… I need people who I can trust in positions of power, Nath. I need people like you."

"You need me to keep you in one piece."

"I can get a hundred medics—you're worth more to me than that. Things are changing, Nath."

Nathan glanced down, "Are there things you aren't telling me?"

"Yes." Luke said simply, then glanced away, clearly uneasy.

"Wez is… nervous. He worries, you know; he doesn't sleep before these meetings… he hasn't slept all week. He thinks there are things you aren't telling us. Important things."

"There are." Luke sighed, "I don't distrust you Nathan, it's not that. But this… this runs too deep. This is something I have to let happen; it has to run its course. Any less would always leave doubts… here and elsewhere."

"And what _is_ its course?"

"That I don't know. But when it does happen, I know you'll understand why."

"But not yet?"

Luke sighed deeply, "I'm not excluding you without good reason. I would never do that, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you understand I'm not happy with it, but this is something I have to do. It has to play out because if I step in now to stop it, it'll always be between us, you understand?"

"No, I don't understand," Nathan said calmly. "But I accept it."

"Thank you." Luke sat behind his desk to study the autoreader there, the tone in his voice indicating that he considered the matter dealt with now but as ever, Nathan wasn't so easily derailed.

"I just… I worry."

"About me?" Luke glanced up to flash that youthful smile, the one he hid behind so often. "Don't worry about me, Nath. I'm bombproof."

Nathan allowed a small smile, "You know sometimes I think you just might be. And then I remember that there's just one thing that can tear you apart… and that's you. And I remember just how willing you are to do that. How willing you have been in the past, when the mood takes you. You see, I trust you completely, in everything—except that. And nothing you've said today reassures me. In fact it makes me worry all the more."

Luke glanced away, uncomfortable beneath his friend's shrewd assessment. "Get out of here, I have to go soon and I haven't even studied the layout of this damn freighter yet."

Nathan set off, and Luke spoke out again, "And think about what I asked—about taking a new position."

"I'll think of on it—_if_ you take Mara with you."

Luke hesitated a long time, so Nathan pushed on. "It's unfair to leave her here if you're not even going to give her a reason, and you know it. Either take her or tell her why—and don't give me that silent stare, because if it won't work on me then it certainly won't work on Mara." Still Luke remained silent, so Nathan played his new ace; "Consider this my test of my own diplomatic potential."

Luke let out a long sigh, dragging his fingers through unruly hair. "Fine, you win," he looked up sharply, "_this_ time. But this is it—this is the last time."

Nathan took a step back towards Luke, pulling out the chair opposite his desk. "Can I ask what's prompted this new cautious streak?"

"No—and don't sit down again."

Nathan sat anyway, eyes narrowing solicitously. "See, if it were concern for yourself I'd be rather pleased, I confess. But inferring that Mara isn't more than capable of looking after herself… I can't help but think that's the very _opposite_ of healthy."

"Why is everybody obsessing about Mara today?"

Nathan knew Luke well enough to recognize his trademark avoidance when he heard it; answering a question with another question. "Nobody is—except you."

"No I'm not—and why have you sat down?"

"Are you taking Mara?"

Luke sighed again, finally caving in. "Yes I'll take Mara. But as of today she's to be fazed out of active duty as bodyguard."

Nathan paused, shocked, "You want to dismiss her?"

"No! No… but I want her sidelined into a less dangerous position, I want her to off the front line. Put Wez on it; he seems to feel he has some kind of vested interest at the moment. I don't want her access reduced and I don't want her present status diminished… if anything, I'd like to see it increased. She's always had unofficial authority equal to Reece's level—let's make that formal. Let's make her someone who would plausibly be next in line to the throne; let's ease that in. Tell Wez to set that in place and I'll authorize any changes when I get back."

There was something deeply reassuring in Luke's words which swept away all earlier worries, Nathan felt; that his concern for Mara hadn't changed, his closeness hadn't dimmed. In all the time that Nathan had known them, Luke and Mara had tumbled through the most volatile, unpredictable, tempestuous and flat-out dangerous relationship that Nathan had ever known, yet the thought that it should end seemed utterly unthinkable to him now. As long as they were together, all was right with the universe at some basic, fundamental level. Everything else could be dealt with.

He smiled as he rose, clicking his heels neatly in a brief bow before turning to the door. Luke let him reach it before he spoke out.

"Nath… aren't you forgetting something?"

Nathan frowned, uncertain, and Luke glanced meaningfully at the model Star Destroyer still laying on his desk. Nath took two steps back as Luke took the destroyer and threw it underhand—

Nathan paused and backstepped slightly, missing the model but managing to bat it awkwardly up into the air twice before finally managing a fumbled catch as it fell.

"What," he said, looking to Luke with hurt dignity, "I caught it in the end didn't I?"

Luke steepled his fingers before his mouth to hide the smile there, "You know, I'm not sure you can use that as a legal defense for charges of negligence in a military Court-martial."

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	31. Chapter 31

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The narrow ante-chamber to one side of the angle-edged corridor lead into another small, Spartan room in the dilapidated old freighter, typical of the kind of venue Leia always seemed to name for such meetings, Luke knew.

What wasn't typical was that Han hadn't been at the sliding hangar doors to the freighter's Repair Bay, where Luke left the final two of his own plain-clothes op's in an uneasy standoff with two wary Rebel lookouts, only Mara continuing on into the bay with him--though Han was on the station somewhere, his distant, indistinct sense an edgy, ill-at-ease mix of concern and anger.

Luke allowed himself a brief smile at Han's absence before ordering his mind and his attention back to the present to look over the massive hull of the battered mid-bulk freighter which stretched the length of the cavernous, cluttered Bay Forty-eight, surprised that it was being stored in a pressurised bay at all and not an open dock, the slick, barely-visible atmospheric shield keeping the starry black vacuum of space at bay behind it. Beside him, Mara loosed a huff at the state of the dilapidated freighter, the first time she'd spoken since they'd landed. If she was still sore at him for trying to exclude her then she'd better get used to it for the foreseeable future, he mused—at least with this kind of front-line operation.

"Well one thing's for sure," she growled, her breath visible in the cold hangar, "it's not going anywhere real fast."

Luke glanced down to the mass of engine components laid out across the bay floor, four yawning gaps to the rear of the old Class VI bulk freighter set about with inlet pipes, cooling arrays and directional vents, marking where the engines had been stripped away. Probably why it was being stored atmospherically; that was a lot of work to do in vacuum.

Still, it was a big old freighter and it could hide a lot of secrets. Warily, Luke reached out with the Force to get some sense of it, picking out Leia's presence to the fore of the freighter immediately, nervous but resolute as ever. Aside from Leia and one other sentient—a Sullustan, he thought—he could detect no-one else either in the ship or the bay. Luke smiled at the sensation of Mara reaching out her own tentative tendrils of newly-trained awareness, briefly considering asking her the species of the second sentient before dismissing the idea; now wasn't the time for lessons.

The inside the battered freighter was no better than its exterior, half of the lights down the doors opening with the kind of asthmatic hiss that Luke instantly associated with any number of old vessels he'd lived in and flown from when still a pilot in the Alliance.

"Well somebody's using it." Mara's words pulled Luke out of his reverie and he glanced back; she was looking to the floor and he followed her gaze, instantly realizing; in the low light, the centre of the corridor was clear of the dust which gathered at its edges.

"You picking anything up?" Luke asked, glancing down the long corridor; the big old freighter echoed his voice back to him, the corridors disappearing into gloom. Something…

"Oh so _now_ you want my opinion," Mara said gamely. "An hour ago, you didn't want me to come, but now suddenly it's what do _you_ think Mara?"

Luke half-turned, amused, "Well I thought since you were here, you should probably do _something_. So what _do_ you think, Red?"

"I think… somebody well ahead, but that's it."

"One person?"

"Yeah."

Luke widened his own awareness, knowing that Mara would have sensed Leia, by far the stronger presence. "Want to lead the way?"

Mara arched her eyebrows, "You think I can't home in on her?"

"I think you can't resist a challenge."

She grinned, her pale skin a warm glow in the artificial light. "Call that a challenge?"

.

They'd made two wrong turns by the time they got there, though Luke hadn't said so aloud; it was a long walk and she'd still done pretty damn well to home in on one sense in a ship of this size. Mara slowed as they came to the open door, a bright light reflecting down the slowly-curving walkway, and Luke afforded himself only the slightest hesitation to gather his thoughts before entering.

.

Leia sat at a scratched table, hands tightly clasped. Aside from the chairs, it was the only furnishing in the cool, musty room. The walls were corroded where they met the floor, paint peeling back and bubbling, and everywhere was that faint smell of old, overheated coolant. For a second Luke felt a pang of nostalgia for his old life, imagining the echo of footfalls and laughter that would fill this old freighter when it was in use by the Alliance. Was this why Leia did it—bring him to places like this… or was this simply her life? He glanced down at her now; at the clothes she wore; pale pants with scuffed white boots and a white top, the old padded vest she had worn so often on Hoth to keep her warm, her hair braided and wound into a looped knot at the nape of her neck.

She would return tonight to some tattered, barely-working ship and share a meal in a crowded, noisy mess-hall with people she had known and trusted for years. That was the loss he felt most keenly of all; that sense of camaraderie, of trust, of mutual beliefs and goals. That was what Palpatine had ripped away from him… and every time he tried to rebuild that sense of trust, something or someone came along and shattered it.

Again he felt that ache of nostalgia for the life he'd left behind, and again he resolutely pushed it away; he had a different life now, a different path; would have a completely new path soon. That realization burned in his chest for long seconds before he pushed it away, still intensely aware of Mara's close presence in the small ante-room outside.

Later—he'd deal with that problem later.

_That problem_… deal with it how? It wasn't a _problem_, it was the loss of everything he'd sworn to his old Master, the loss of everything he'd been so sure he would _never_ grant Palpatine… but then he hadn't; it had been of Mara's choosing, surely, though arguing now seemed petty and pointless. He had no idea if he was pleased or petrified… no, that wasn't true; he was terrified. Luke shook his head slightly, eyes unfocused; "_Bad blood."_ Palpatine's words came unbidden to his mind; _"D__id they tell you what you really are? It's instinctive, ingrained into every cell of your being…__ Bad blood… __Your destiny runs in your veins."_

Leia straightened slightly in her chair and Luke jolted, dragging his mind back to the moment suddenly aware of her eyes on him; _concentrate!_

He sat, taking the moment to pull himself together, so that when he lifted his gaze again he knew that his face was unreadable, his eyes blank. He had faced Palpatine a hundred times, more fractious and under worse circumstances than this and still managed to pursue his own agenda. Leia Organa had, for reasons Luke could never quite lock down, more than one way to get under his skin, but with each discussion between them raising the stakes, this meeting today was too important to allow it to end in anything less than substantial progress—one way or another.

.

Watching the Emperor sit, Leia reminded herself of her already-decided her course of action; she would throw herself totally into these talks, let them fill her mind and her attention completely, every question and counter. She would think of nothing else—there _was_ nothing else—nothing outside of these talks and this room. Only this; concentrate on this.

She studied the man who sat before her, his scarred face unreadable, mismatched eyes sharp and attentive and subtly guarded, hair a mass of loose, unruly waves which on others might have lent a certain youthful, careless air, but on him conferred only a contradictory confusion; a man too young and too unorthodox for the role forced upon him… but then was she any different?

Her thoughts went again to the small picture of him that she'd found in Han's pocket; the indomitable Emperor, confident and unyielding… and yet she remembered so well that shy pilot, humble and unassuming—and which was real, because surely they couldn't both be… could they?

She straightened again; cleared her throat, "I suppose congratulations are in order."

He frowned, the act pulling at the upper edge of his scar where it cut through his eyebrow, "For what?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I heard something about a marriage on one or two of the HoloNet channels eight weeks ago," Leia said dryly. You would have had to be a hermit living in a sealed cave to have missed it, the newly freed-up media channels going into a frenzy. Anything at all to do with the mysterious, enigmatic Emperor and his far-from-retiring new bride were splashed all over every news channel from Helska to Hoth.

"Oh."

Leia frowned, confused—because everything she'd ever known about the man sat opposite her right now said that he'd actually genuinely forgotten that fact. Now he frowned beneath her gaze, his defences rising.

"What?"

Leia paused, ignoring the curt tone of the challenge. "You seem... distracted?"

Those distinctive, unsettling eyes locked on hers for a moment before flicking away, voice completely neutral. "I'm fine, thank you."

"I was just..." Leia hesitated, then dismissed it with a shake of her head, "Never mind."

She settled into her chair, bracing, forcing herself to focus on the moment and nothing else. In truth, every meeting with the new Emperor demanded no less, whatever the circumstances. "Before we go any further, I need to know something—the truth."

He remained silent, waiting in invitation, so Leia pressed on, "You can read thoughts, can't you—like a Jedi?"

"Something like that."

"Yes or no?"

"Yes." He didn't hesitate, seeming more comfortable now beneath her wary questions.

"Individual thoughts?"

"With you, yes."

"What does that mean?"

"It means yes, I can read specific thoughts."

"Word-perfect?"

"Why are you asking this?"

"Answer me."

"I think I've answered enough questions—answer mine."

Leia lifted her chin, "Because I can't continue these talks if I know you're reading my thoughts."

He tipped his head, "Do you have something to hide?"

There was only wry amusement in his voice, but Leia felt her heart pound. "Yes. I'm the leader of the rebellion against you, of course I have things to hide."

"I'm well aware that you hide things from me. If I were bringing you here simply to rifle through your thoughts for information then firstly… well, first I wouldn't need to meet with you. I need only be close to you to read your.."

"How close?"

"With you? Anywhere on this space station would be close enough." He tilted his head, "And no, you haven't unwittingly given away Rebel secrets without realizing it, for the simple reason that I haven't looked. I haven't _tried_ to read your thoughts above passive awareness."

"Why?"

"It would hardly nurture trust between us, now would it?"

"How would I ever know you had?"

"I thought the concept of trust extended past what you can prove. I want you feel that you can trust me."

"_Feel_ that… or actually be able to?"

"Are we arguing semantics already?"

Leia held Luke's gaze in silence, and he sighed. "These talks are a trust exercise—why would I jeopardize that?"

"Because its very easy for you to do so without being found out."

"A lot of things would be very easy for me to do—that doesn't make them right."

From anybody else it would have been the perfect answer, Leia knew. Tthe one fact that needed no further explanation; if something was wrong, then one simply shouldn't do it. From him... was it an automatic response, or a calculated one—had he in fact read her thoughts to know exactly what she wanted to hear, before speaking? Leia pursed her lips, annoyed at being so vulnerable. "Have you _ever_ read my thoughts?"

Luke leaned back in his chair, seeming to tire of this line of questions now. "No, not above passive awareness, which I can't block."

"Which is what?"

"A background awareness of your mood… which I'd guess right now was just a little guarded," he said dryly.

"Can you read thoughts that I choose to keep hidden?"

"Yes… but not without your knowing."

"Why?"

He leaned forward, "Why don't we cut to the chase here and I give my word that I'll not look into your head without your permission."

"Why can't you read them?"

He remained silent, pale eyes hard, and for a moment Leia thought that he'd stand and simply walk away—perhaps for a moment he considered it—then he sighed, running his hand through unruly locks. "I _can_ read them, I just told you. But I can't read them without forcing you to think about them… and believe me, if I started digging around in your head and directing your thoughts, you'd know about it."

"I want your word that you won't."

"I've already given it."

"Say it again."

"I give you my word as…" he paused; seemed genuinely at a loss as to what to swear on, "I give you my word, that I will not turn your head inside out for some petty little scrap of information, no matter how important you personally may think it to…"

"Properly."

He stifled a smile, "I give you my word that I'll not attempt to read your thoughts. Nor have I in the past. Happy?"

Leia relaxed incrementally. "Is there a way to stop you reading my thoughts—how would I do that?"

"You don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm very good at this. Because my connection with the Force is too acute…" he broke off, as if studying his own words, then looked back to Leia. "You can't. It's that simple. Even you can't."

"_Even_ me?"

For a second she saw something in his eye, some brief flash of frustration at his own words, and wondered if it were a slip. But it was gone in an instant, and he pushed the conversation on without pause, his tone purposely provocative.

"You have my word—can we now discuss something of actual value which would warrant my bothering to give it."

"Such as?"

"You tell me, you asked for this meeting."

She could so easily have challenged him, Leia knew, but she wasn't biting, not this time. Instead she hesitated, looking for another path, a way to break down those barriers; why, she didn't know—perhaps because she felt that this would be the last time he trusted her. She felt a pang of genuine guilt at that, and wondered at it. _Not now; don't think about it now._

"Han trusts you," she said at last. "Absolutely."

Luke looked down, jaw tightening, so Leia pushed on, "He does… yet he wouldn't let me come here alone today. He was supposed to be on the other side of the galaxy, but he refused a mission so that he could be here. He trusts you absolutely… and not at all. You tell me what I'm supposed to do with that?"

"You want to know what you should do… trust me. Call a ceasefire. Do this, and let me prove my intentions. Compromise—give me this one chance."

"Give me a reason to." It was a request, not a challenge.

"I've given you them!" Luke said.. "I gave you your troops back against the advice of my own council, against the tenets of my own military. I gave you the second Death Star… against the wishes of my council, believe me. I've brought all that I can to this table… what will you bring?"

Leia held quiet at this, aware that thus far, she'd brought nothing but her time… and now, she'd brought enemies… She paused, taking a quick breath, fighting to clear that line of thought, and when she looked up to him his eyes were narrowed, curious. Had he read her thoughts? He didn't move though, eyes steady on her, and Leia considered, freshly unsure.

Because the fact was that Luke _had_ made all the gestures, taken all the chances… or were they that at all? Had they cost him so very much? Like the bottle of Alderaanian mead he'd given an astronomical four weeks pay to buy and bring to her when he'd still been a Rebel pilot, were they noble, benevolent gestures or, to a man with limitless power, were they nothing more than empty acts of coercion?

Leia shook her head, freshly unsure. "Who are you… really?"

It all came back to that one question for Leia; what was real and what was feigned. He didn't speak as Luke Skywalker used to—not the accent, any accent could be faked with sufficient lessons and a good linguist—he didn't use the same terms and colloquialisms; the pattern of his speech had changed, not simply the dialect. Could you learn those things too, being submersed in another sociolect? And how often had she seen him? Three hours in the last seven years? Five hours? Hardly a fair representation, given how guarded he was around her. Was he making a conscious choice to seem different before her; to distance himself from the man he once was—_might have been_, Leia corrected herself. If so, why? What did it gain him?

"You are an unfathomable man," she said at last. Narrowing her eyes, she touched on the truth of it; "The question is, is it by choice?"

"Haven't we been over this?"

"Yes, but you never answer the question… and every time I see you, I feel like I'm looking at a different man—sometimes in the course of a single conversation." He hesitated, seeming taken aback at her directness, so Leia tried again, spurred on by the realization and her memories of their last encounter. "Sometimes… sometimes when I look at you, I still see him so clearly. I still see Luke Skywalker—and so I can't help but wonder if he's still in there. If he's.."

"No." Luke said simply, the word absolute.

Leia stuck to her guns, "I think he is. I can see no other reason why the Emperor would give us the new Death Star."

"I didn't give it to you." He was pulling back again, his tone sharpening. "I simply showed you its existence."

"Then destroyed it… and right now, I think I'm finally realizing why."

That momentary tightening around his eyes was visible in the scar which curved noticeably; curiosity—the _need_ to know… was it because he didn't know himself why he'd done it, Leia wondered? Now, looking into his eyes in this moment, seeing that fraction of hidden uncertainty beneath a near-perfect mask composure, it seemed so obvious to her.

"You see, for an Emperor, a dictator, I would think that something as potent as a Death Star would be a valuable asset to be pressed into service at the first possible opportunity… but Luke Skywalker—the Luke Skywalker I knew—he wouldn't be able to bear its existence."

Those ice-blue eyes narrowed further, "I've managed to _bear its existence_ for two years already. In fact I helped build it."

"Yet you didn't use it."

"I don't need it," he dismissed. "And what makes you think that's the only one?"

For a scarlet second Leia wondered—but even as the panic came, it subsided, and she shook her head. "Because you wouldn't use something like that. Luke Skywalker wouldn't… and so I don't think the Emperor would either."

"Now you think me honorable?" He almost laughed, and when she tipped her head slightly he smiled genuinely, "Just not honorable enough to rule?"

"I don't think any one individual can be."

"What makes you think ten individuals can be—or a hundred? Human nature is human nature. The fault is simply magnified."

"The more candidates who jointly make the decision, the more individual traits are nullified by the group."

"It didn't quite work that way for the Senate."

"The Senate existed for millennia."

"Then crumbled under its own flaws—yet you want to recreate it exactly."

"And you want to sweep it completely aside, good and bad."

"No, I want to find the middle road. I want to reinstate a Senate whose powers are not absolute."

"So you're making a puppet government."

"I'm looking for a way forward."

"Which conveniently happens to leave you in ultimate control."

"Why do you think you'll rule any better than me?"

Luke's challenge took Leia aback, that he could even ask the question. "We would represent the will of the people!"

"All of them?" Luke asked. "Or merely those who happen to share your particular views?"

"I doubt many share yours."

"Which doesn't necessarily make mine wrong," he replied pointedly. "And even if it did, that still doesn't necessarily make yours right."

"People have a right to make that choice themselves."

"Even if they're wrong, if all they'll do is exacerbate the situation with a knee-jerk reaction?"

"Yes, even then! They have a right to make their own mistakes." Leia shook her head, uncertain how she'd been forced into some kind of admission that they would. "Give them a chance to vote—see who they really want in power."

"Maybe you'd be surprised."

"Then go ahead," she challenged, throwing down the gauntlet.

But he only watched, amused at her indignant fervor, leaving Leia to wonder at what point he'd become the jaded politician.

"No," he stated simply. "The time isn't right yet."

And there it was again; that subtle promise of what was to come, keeping her hopeful, maintaining a dialogue when all she wanted to do—what she _should_ do—was storm from the room and leave him to Madine.

So why did she stay?

Because the truth was she really didn't know—didn't know what he intended. Was it to reinstate a Senate and gradually increase its powers to the point where it could assume full command, as he'd said… or did he have no intention of ever stepping down, leaving it forever toothless, a shadow illusion of democracy, empty lipservice to mislead and deceive. And still he smiled that polite, distanced smile, as if at any moment he could simply stand up and leave if it no longer amused him. Yet he said all the right things…

"When everything's secure, I'll open the ballots."

"So when you've had enough time to rig the votes, is that what you're saying?" Leia asked.

"I would never do that. But I won't rush through unsound practices to answer to the Alliance's private agendas either."

"Or your own?"

"Democracy can't be rushed, I've already realized that. It can't be held to a timetable."

"If you don't intend to hold free elections, then what are we even discussing here?"

"I will hold elections… when the time is right. When everything is in place. I told you before, certain conditions need to be addressed before then."

"We need to lay down our arms."

"There needs to be a cessation of hostilities—on both our parts."

"You want me to cease the very thing that's forcing you into these talks on the off-chance that at some vague point in the future, you just _might_ hold an election?"

"Nothing you're doing is forcing me into anything," he said with casual assurance.

"Then why are you here?"

"If you genuinely believe that I'll give you nothing, then why are _you_ here?" he countered. The brief flash of her altered reasons to bring him here today flared in her mind, and Leia tamped it down ruthlessly, speaking for no other reason that to take up her thoughts. "Sometimes I wonder."

"Then let me tell you. You're here because you want to see an end to this. You want to see a united Empire under democratic rule and you want to see that with as little bloodshed as possible—which is exactly what I want to see. I could take you out very easily Leia, believe me. I could continue to usher in changes to the constitution which would make your Rebellion redundant. I could _give_ the people overnight what you're so willing to fight for, and in doing so leave you meaningless and obsolete."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because it would be _me_ giving them that, managed by those who support the existing regime. It would be the very thing you're accusing me of—it would still be absolute rule under a different name. I need people in power who would be as passionate about democracy as you are. Not to build their own power base, but because they _believed_ they were doing the right thing. I need people in power who would be prepared to fight for those beliefs tooth and nail, if only in the political arena. I need people who believe in democracy to counter those who have other values. I don't have these people—not enough to form a cohesive government. By its nature, the Empire has suppressed them for almost three decades. I simply don't _have_ these people… but you do. You said it yourself; numbers and diversity even out the extremes, individual traits are nullified—Imperial and Alliance representatives could stand side by side."

Leia shook her head, taken by the power in his words, the apparent sincerity… _wanting_ to believe, but as unsure as ever that he was telling her the truth. _Needing_ to be wary for the sake of others. "You say this, but I saw you named Emperor in Palpatine's Court. I saw you on the bridge of a Star Destroyer."

"You also saw me help you to escape from one. You've seen me continually work towards removing the old Imperial Court since my accession. I've effectively nullified it, as you well know."

"So you knew it was flawed?"

"I thought it irrelevant," he avoided. "Palpatine's Court had no real power; no-one in Court had any actual authority save what Palpatine gave them, and that to back up whatever Palpatine wanted. It became nothing more than a collection of sycophants and I'd disassemble what's left of it tomorrow if I could."

"It has no power?"

"It has the power it always had, which is the power to petition the Emperor to change or enact the law. Unfortunately it's a little difficult to petition the Emperor when he doesn't attend Court."

"So it's a façade?"

"If I could disband it I would, but I can't be seen to disassemble it entirely until I can put something better in its place. Court still exists as a body because it's tied into the Imperial legal system. when I have an effective means to place that power elsewhere, I will. Until then Court remains, in theory at least."

Leia narrowed her eyes, "Is that what you're offering us, the _façade_ of democracy?"

He was completely unmoved by her tone, "You know that's not true."

"_How_ do I know that's not true?"

"Because I could very easily create the pretense of democracy without ever having to include something as contentious and inflammatory as the Rebel Alliance."

"The words of a true Sith Emperor."

He only set his head to one side, the tiny sliver of his impeccable, high-collared white shirt glowing in the low light. "I'm disappointed; I thought you were beyond such limiting views. Life is seldom black and white." He glanced down, taking in her appearance with a perfunctory, amused glance, "Though tonight we seem to be the exception which proves the rule."

Leia looked to his clothes, darkly opulent, subtly understated, absolute black, and remembered her own, pure white, a conscious choice today to underline her belief in the old Senate before a Sith Emperor…

Was he telling the truth, did he need the free-thinkers who had fought for their beliefs, those who could be relied on to hang on to and fight for those same values under political circumstances. It was all very logical; they were exactly what a new Senate would need. They were also exactly what a continuing Empire would like to single out and destroy.

"It's not what you see and it's not what they call me Leia—it's what I do that defines me."

Was it simply a reminder of their first meeting, Leia wondered, or was it a genuine appeal, his voice strangely vulnerable in that moment, drawing her in, calling her on.

"And what will you do?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

.

Luke hesitated again, eyes on Leia's tightly-clasped hands, aware of her tenseness- aware of why. Still, he'd sensed some crosscurrent of change today; some subtle shift, half-hidden, drawn on by the one thing he truly trusted; the Force had urged in subtle ways every day on his journey here; had whispered into his dreams and shaped his thoughts, charging them with some pressing need to open up to Leia, to gain her trust; _now_. "I told you; I'll take Palpatine's Empire apart."

"And replace it with your own?"

"If that was all I wanted, then why would I be here?"

"You tell me?"

"I can't. There would be no reason. If I wanted power I have it… but I'll say it again, power is a means to an end, not an end in itself."

She hesitated; leaned forward, such was her fervor– "Abdicate."

Luke sat back wearily, head to one side as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose; it always came to this at least once in every meeting. Still, he answered, laying down the same facts again, "I would do so, but.."

"Then do so– "

"_BUT_…" Luke repeated pointedly, "Someone would have to step into that breach. Someone would still have to lead the Empire toward a more moderate path; someone would have to broker the ceasefire and turn that fragile, volatile peace into democracy—a fair democracy with representation for all. And who could I trust to do that?"

"I'd do it."

"A Rebel?"

Leia arched her eyebrows, "Surely we'll be represented in your future democracy anyway—that is what you're offering isn't it? Why not before?"

"Because you'd never hold the Empire in one piece—you'd certainly never hold the Moffs together. Even if you weren't already known as the leader of the Rebellion against their Empire they'd never accept you. You'd be viewed as a radical before you'd even begun to make changes. I served Palatine for years—I was Commander in Chief of the Core Fleet and even I balance on that brink, little as I've done to redress the bias. The Empire's power is based on its massive military and that military is notoriously conservative. You'd never control them or even hold them in check, and if you didn't they'd form a formidable, organized force against you within months—maybe even weeks."

"I control a military now."

"Not like this," he said with conviction. "You control a military who want to be controlled—they have a single goal and a reason to pull together. Mine are a very different breed. They say I'm a wolf—then that's the pack… and if they smell blood, if they see the slightest weakness, they'll turn on you and rip you to shreds, leader or no."

Leia frowned, taken by the strength of belief in his words; the clear conviction that he was quoting absolute fact—he, after all, knew them. Was he so ruthless because he had to be, because if he didn't maintain control then they would take it from him—by force?

"What would happen if you abdicated?" she asked at last, genuinely curious.

He shrugged his manner dismissive, "First of all they'd do their utmost to kill me—no point in risking a change of heart. Then they'd take down most of my close advisors in the belief that one of them would be the next in line of succession and a therefore a genuine threat. And Kiria, because although she has no direct entitlement she'd still be a figure for the Royal Houses to rally round, since they have a vested interest in maintaining traditional lines of entitlement—and because they'd close ranks against a threat to one of their own; that's simply what they do. I should imagine they'd probably remove any of my remaining close associates within the Palace hierarchy and the military as quickly as possible too, to avoid any backlash and any possible threat to back up the legal bequeath of power, before they finally turned on each other." Luke paused, but Leia remained silent, genuinely listening, aware that tellingly, he'd obviously given this a lot of thought.

"Every Moff with a superiority complex would be looking to take the lead—which would be all of them—splitting the military up in the process. The Army and Navy would separate out and form their own factions based on existing Sector Groups—I could probably name seven or eight serious contenders—and anyone else without control of a sizeable military contingent of at least a dozen well-placed sectors would be wheedled out within weeks. The Empire would polarize into systems or Sectors loyal to or under the control of one faction or another. And I've not even started on the aristocrats in the Royal Houses who, with the traditional line of entitlement gone, would start collaborating and dealing and generally adding to the anarchy. Despite that, I doubt that anyone could hold down more than a few linked Sectors, which makes nice, close borders to raid when supply lines dried up and no-one had the complete list of provisions and ordnance necessary to maintain their power base. Retaliations would follow… and civil war would erupt, even be instigated in places, for personal gain. Remember, these would be military leaders—if you give a man a hammer, he sees every problem as a nail. They'd seek a military solution because that's what they understand and that's where their strength lies and they would play to it. And they'd have the power and the position to force everyone else to do so—to meet them on their terms."

"Then remove the Moffs first."

He smiled at that, "Remove them how? There are almost a thousand. Are you suggesting I make them step down—because that would solve nothing; they'd maintain their contacts and their ambitions and nothing fuels the fire of unrest better than a good dose of offended resentment. At present they're bound by my laws; by the rules and regulations of the military they serve in. If they decide to challenge me then they're trapped and hindered by those same terms—Palpatine wasn't a fool; he'd give no-one enough power to threaten him. Or are you perhaps suggesting removing them more… permanently? In which case, removing all of those who represented a threat would generate a power vacuum which would be impossible to manage without creating that which you've just sought to eradicate. And surely the Alliance doesn't condone such extreme action anyway?"

Leia blinked just once at the stream of considered, coherent information; was this the same man who had burst into her cell onboard the Death Star to blithely identify himself as her rescuer without the slightest idea as to how they were going to get out again? The man who had run them onto the stub of a bridge and promptly shot the controls out without a second thought as to how they were actually going to cross the chasm?

The man who had stepped forward in the Death Star hangar in General Kenobi's defense without a moment's consideration as to his own safety.

The man who'd flown against the Death Star—against a million to one odds. Knowingly.

For the first time in a long time, Leia looked into those mismatched eyes and wondered….

_What if he had been?_

What if he _had been_ that man and had to go through all that he had endured in the last seven years? What if Luke Skywalker—the Luke Skywalker she knew—what if he was real?

What would it have done to him, to have lived this life… faced these trials?

It wouldn't have broken him, not Luke. But it would have changed him, forced him to be something else just to survive. Even Han admitted that; that the Luke Skywalker he knew would be fundamentally changed by all he'd been through. Was that what she was looking at now? Or was she just letting her heart rule her head?

When she finally found her voice it was quiet and calm, tempered by the considerations rushing through her thoughts. "You could remove the Grand Moffs and replace them with Alliance Commanders—they wouldn't allow the deposed Moffs any further contact with the military."

"Seriously—you seriously think the Imperial military would take orders from an Alliance Commander, at any level, let alone Sector Command?" Luke shook his head, amused but not to the point that he was dismissive—and why, Leia thought, why despite everything, could she _still_ not think of him by any other name?

She looked again to those unsettling but so very familiar eyes as he continued, prepared to talk this out; to discuss, not simply overrule. "They're too entrenched. It would only polarize the situation further, send more defectors to the discharged Moff's side in support of the Empire they knew. Change has to be slow. We have to have everything in place before it comes, from the top down."

"Then replace them from men within your own ranks—those you trust."

"All of those I trust are already in positions of power, believe me. But it's a big Empire and they don't begin to cover it… _yet_. Trustworthy men who also seek positions of power are few and far between, and those who can successfully hold the pack at bay without being ripped to shreds are fewer still. Trust me, I know."

"So you leave those who are unsuitable in power?"

"I like my enemies where I can see them." Luke countered easily.

Leia paused, just a heartbeat—but Luke knew he had slipped.

"Is that why I'm here, is that what this is?"

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose again, weary, "You know that's not true."

She sighed and narrowed her eyes, trying to re-evaluate the man she thought she knew in light of all he had said today. He was a leader now, and a calculating one, with all the trappings that entailed; agendas and objectives and a shrewd awareness of his own power and position, as well as the conviction that he would have to maintain both in order to achieve his goals. The question was, what exactly _were_ those goals and how far was he willing to go to fulfill them; he'd already had the gall to depose a Sith Emperor—by extension, one had to assume that removing any other obstruction to his power base was nothing by comparison

"But that's just the thing," Leia murmured at last; "I don't. You move forward and backward in the same argument—in the same sentence sometimes."

"That doesn't mean my objectives do—only the means of getting there. That's why you have to trust me; trust that no matter what I say or do, I'm still heading on the same direction."

"Democracy."

"A _working_ democracy," he corrected.

"And how do you make it work?"

"I don't know yet…" He leaned forward, and the smile on his lips was genuine; daring, energized. "Why don't we find out?"

And oh, in that moment Leia wanted so much to follow him, wanted to trust him, wanted to...

She glanced down guiltily, the reality of this situation blooming cold within her. "Madine thinks we can learn that without you."

The smile fell instantly from his lips. "Madine ran with the pack too long. He can't be trusted—you know that, don't you?"

"This from the man who lets his own pack-wolves run free."

"No, I control my pack; I've told you, they follow my rules."

Leia frowned, aware of the change in him, yet strangely unthreatened by it. She examined that thought, that gut feeling. "The truth is that for a wolf, you so rarely bare your teeth…"

Cool, mismatched eyes met hers, "That doesn't mean I don't bite—only that I seldom make empty threats."

Still running back over the last seven years, Leia slowly shook her head, realization "I think you bite only when you're cornered."

"Then I would suggest you stop trying to corner me."

"You know that I'm not," she said, aware that it was only half-true. Something was stirring now, sounding at the very edge of her thoughts, that same constant tone that rang, pitch-perfect, in the dead of night when she couldn't sleep. That same bone-deep awareness of some connection unmade, something so obvious as to be right here before her eyes and yet it remained as always _just_ beyond her grasp. She paused, taken up by that feeling, the knowledge of something so close she could almost touch it. "I think… the more I know you, the more I think that you do only what you perceive of as necessary… I just don't know if that's enough; enough to trust the fate of the Alliance to you."

He sighed, shaking his head as he looked down, dragging his fingers again through unruly hair, "You're judging me on what you've heard, not by what you _know_."

"What else can I judge you on?" Leia said.

He leaned forward, and Leia could almost _feel_ his need for… something; some connection, some breakthrough. "You knew me for so long, Leia. Forget what anyone else says, what do your instincts tell you—what does your heart tell you?"

She leaned back, shaking her head, licking at dry lips in uncertainty as that tone, that constant, perfect tone, reverberated with a resonance she'd never known before.

He shook his head, "I can't give you proof, Leia—I can't ever give you proof. You're just going to have to trust me. Just take one step and trust me."

"Trust you, how can I trust you? How can I trust The Wolf…"

.

And there it was.

Leia stuttered to silence, unable to believe she'd never seen it before—but she'd never once called him that divisive name, never acknowledged him as such. Now, having said it aloud, oh, it was so obvious!

Her dreams; her constant dreams… _this_ was what they were about! She'd thought it was the same dream she'd been having since Alderaan was destroyed… but it wasn't that at all; it wasn't Alderaan. It was since she's met Luke. Since she'd met The Wolf.

He hesitated before her stare, knowing that she'd just reached some kind of epiphany but uncertain what… and all she could do was stare—just stare at the man who'd stalked her dreams for seven years. The wolf who'd prowled in her shadow, always there, always waiting…

Looking away from that feral stare she glanced down… and her eyes were taken by his hands, loosely clasped on the table before him, close enough that she could–

As she had done in her dreams, Leia reached out—and he jerked back as if burned; as if her touch, any touch, could cut like a knife. She remembered all the times he'd held her and laughed with her, how deeply they'd connected, how they'd bonded so spontaneously and intuitively, like two halves of the same whole. Remembered him gathering her up and spinning her round when he'd returned to Yavin after the Death Star; remembered his joy and his life and his exuberance.

"Luke…" she hesitated, "what happened? What did they do to you?"

He shrank back, intensely uncomfortable, and she knew her words had momentarily broken through, had shattered those thick shields…

Then his eyes hooded, chin raising a fraction, "No more than you, Leia."

"Me?"

"They used me—but you… you betrayed me."

"What was I supposed to do?"

"Believe! Believe in me—in the man you knew so well. Am I a fool for asking you to do now what you couldn't do then? We were so close… was our friendship so fragile that you couldn't do that? Did it mean so little?"

"That's unfair. It wasn't about us, it wasn't ever about us. It was about keeping the Alliance alive."

"And telling them did that?"

"Yes! If you were a spy…"

"_If_ ?" He almost laughed the word. "Now you say _if_ . What would it have cost you to say it then—what would it really have cost the Alliance to wait and watch? What would it have cost you to do the same when I was named Heir. Had I really become such a threat overnight? What had I ever done to the Alliance in all the time I was on Coruscant to make me such a threat?"

"You were heir to Palpatine's throne!" Leia was almost shouting, spurred on by his own sudden burst of real emotion.

"That didn't make me Palpatine."

"We didn't know that!"

"You _knew_ _me_—but you still trusted some tenuous collection of implied lies over years of friendship. All we'd gone through together, all we'd been—was it all worth so little to you?"

He halted, no more to say, all his anger spent, and Leia too paused, her own frustrations and validations finally aired, the pair coming to a slow rest, the long-denied frustrations of past accusations finally set aside.

Leia shook her head, voice quiet. "Tell me I was wrong?"

It was practically a plea; all he had to do was say it, just once.

But he shook his head slowly, as unwilling as ever to give her the easy way out, though his voice was as much an apology as an justification. "I _can't_ tell you that—you'll just have to believe. If you can't believe in me now, I can never make this work. Outside of this room, I will constantly say things and take actions which will seem contrary to this agreement in every way, and you're gonna have to trust me despite that—despite everything I seem to do. Whatever else happens outside of this room, you and I have to believe. We have to trust each-other… or we have nothing."

"I…" Leia paused; for the first time, she paused and she looked not outwards, at the bigger picture and her greater cause, protected by the immunity and the detachment it afforded, but inwards, at her own heart, cautious and guarded. At his, bruised and betrayed. She thought again of those endless dreams in the tangled darkness, of the illusive wolf which had never, in years of encounters, _never once_ bitten, only hovered in the shadows, waiting... and he was waiting still.

Was it _pride_ that held her to silence still, the fear that he'd make a fool of her again, as Madine had said? Was it fear to trust the man who'd deserted her? Was that all that was left of her? Fears and pride and betrayal? Oh, how her father would have lamented; he, who had held faith right to the end.

Where was her own hope? Where was her faith in those she'd once trusted so completely and so instinctively? Where was the girl Luke Skywalker had gathered in his arms and spun about at Yavin, the girl he'd given so much to save... had he saved her at all?

She'd committed so much to the Alliance, given so much to hold that flame alight... but in doing so, had she lost some vital part of it within herself? Like Luke, she'd been forced onto a path which had asked so much of her... yet he'd held doggedly to this part of what he was... despite everything, he'd held on to this deepest part of himself. And if he could do it, if he could keep that spark alight through everything... then so could she. And she knew exactly the first step she needed to take to find that path again; "I should have trusted you; I should have tried."

Something in his face softened; something in his eyes gave, or maybe it was something in her own… but suddenly she was looking at Luke Skywalker—and where had he come from? What had changed in the Emperor's face to make him so completely Luke again? Looking into that face, looking at the friend she'd laughed with and cried with and hugged and held... and hurt, so badly, the words came easily.

"I'm sorry." Leia said, "I am so _very, very_ _sorry_—can you forgive me Luke?" she didn't care about the Emperor or even the Sith. She only wanted _him_ to forgive; Luke Skywalker.

He looked away, suddenly as uncertain as Luke had ever been, "I made mistakes too, I know that."

What pushed her to ask the next question she didn't know, but the moment it had left her lips she realized its significance, "Do you believe you're doing the right thing now?"

It was a fraction of a second's hesitation; a broken heartbeat. "Yes."

_Not quite—again; push again_. "Do you believe you always have?"

And there it was again, Luke knew, all wrapped up about her—in his eyes on her delicate, tightly-clasped hands—that sense of urgency which twisted the Force with need, that feeling pressing in all about him, demanding action, so that where normally he would have avoided or rebuffed the searching question, now, faced with her own honesty, he felt moved to answer it. Honestly.

"I told you before, I'm past any help. The Empire isn't; that has to be the focus here."

Leia refused to be led, "Nobody's past help."

Luke stared, feeling he could fall into those huge, compassionate eyes the rich, dark brown of heartwood… _The colour of heartwood… where had he heard that?_

He shook his head; broke his own chain of thought. "I am—by my own making. I'm not asking you or anyone else to forgive me."

Again that mercurial change, Leia realized, transforming him completely in the space of a single sentence; moments ago he had seemed desperate for her understanding. Now, confronted with genuine concern, he immediately tried to push it away—was trying still.

"I'm asking you to help something much bigger—something that _matters_."

_How could he think himself so unimportant?_ "Perhaps in helping one I help the other."

"I'm past any reprieve. I've fallen too far, done too much I'm asha…" He broke the word, but it was too late.

_Ashamed of_, Leia knew; and you couldn't feel shame unless you were aware of your mistakes; remorseful. He didn't simply acknowledge his errors—he regretted them.

_He regretted them!_ In the space of a single slip, a different man sat before her… or maybe a very familiar one.

"Luke, we all stumble," Leia said, intensely aware that the conversation was charting new territory.

"Stumble?!" He shook his head, scarred lips widening to an empty, self-depreciating smile, "No, I didn't _stumble_. I fell… and I kept on falling. And now I find I'm so far from the light that I can't even begin to battle my way back. These aren't mistakes; they're not momentary lapses or fleeting miscalculations. These are glaring flaws and they're mine alone and I can't step back from them—they're part of me." he swallowed, hands tightening to fists, "Nor should I need to if they accomplish a greater objective—a more important goal."

Leia frowned, freshly uncertain. He seemed at once accepting and regretful, as if he'd made this case a thousand times in his own head and could come to no other conclusion save to damn himself. "I don't understand."

"Do you believe in destiny?" he asked, tone earnest, pale, sky blue eyes locked on hers.

"No."

He smiled just slightly; barely a twitch. "Do you believe in heredity? I'm the son of a Sith Lord; the Darkness is _in_ me—it runs with the blood through my veins."

"I don't believe that if you've done something wrong in your life then you're lost– irredeemable."

"The Jedi believed it. Ben did, and Yoda."

"Then they were wrong." Leia said firmly.

A ghost of a smile touched his scarred lips as he leveled the words at her that she had charged against him so often, "Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that," Leia said, for the first time absolutely sure. For him—about him.

That ghost of a smile stayed on his lips as he looked away, voice barely a murmur, the change mercurial as ever.

"You once said… you told me I had no concept of hell, save to inflict it on others….." He trailed to silence as Leia winced at her own accusation, a shallow frown momentarily taking his still-youthful features to the same age as his world-weary eyes. "… I never believed in hell—I never thought the universe could be that cruel. But if you'd asked, I would have said that hell was fire and brimstone; a massive, heaving, teeming place, a million sinners crowded in, suffering for their sins. Punishment, payback… retribution.  
"Now, I know without a doubt that it exists—but I find it's not like that at all. Hell is an empty room. Hell is the still of night. Hell is me, alone with my mind and my memories and my regrets. Hell is my life."

It was a momentary glimpse; a fleeting sense of a torn, tortured soul. Moved by the absolute desolation in those words she reached across the table and took his hand—and it was soft and warm and so very human.

Those haunted eyes came to hers; "If I could change that—if there were any way, any way at all that I could change that… don't you think I would have done so already?"

Something inside her broke at the appeal in those words; some final span breached, "Luke…"

It hit her like a body-blow; widened her eyes in realization, tightening her fingers about his until her nails pressed tensely into flesh.

What had seemed so right less than an hour ago was now absolutely, unquestionably wrong—she could _feel_ it in every fiber of her body, feel it lighting the blood through her veins, the knowledge so overpowering that it was difficult to speak through her constricted throat. "You have to go—quickly!"

Luke frowned, his own mind clearing almost instantly, snapping back to the moment in reaction to her fear. "Why?"

Leia leaned forward, the word less than a whisper, "Madine!"

He lifted his chin, reaching out with his senses… but there was nothing—no-one close save Mara, no perceived threat other than Leia's outright panic.

"They're here—now!" she whispered. "They're all around you."

He set his head slightly to the side and refined his senses, eyes half-closing, looking for anything no matter how small…

... but there was nothing—_absolutely nothing—_and that was wrong.

He turned razor-sharp perception on it and now, when he knew what he was looking for, they were all around him. Bubbles; rifts in his perceptions. Holes where the Force simply did not exist.

He rose quickly, the chair clattering back behind him unheeded; there was little point in subtlety; if he was being watched or eavesdropped upon then Leia wouldn't have told him as directly as she had—or perhaps she felt he had so little time.

Mara had opened the door before he reached it, blaster in her hand, sensing his sudden agitation though she clearly hadn't sensed the rifts yet. "What is it?"

"Something…" he couldn't explain it, couldn't pin it down. He'd never sensed anything like it before.

Mara turned immediately to Leia, blaster raising. "I'm guessing you already know, so…"

Luke caught her arm as it came up, pushing the blaster aside, "She's the one who warned me. We need to move _now_." He turned back to Leia, "Is there a safe way?"

Leia shook her head, unsure why she was helping him but knowing absolutely that she should, "I don't know—I really don't. I don't even know how they're doing it. They told me nothing so you wouldn't realize."

Luke almost told Mara to reach out with the Force, intending to guide her, to show her the rifts, but caught himself in time; despite this new level of trust between himself and Leia there was no need for her to know Mara's abilities. Instead he paced to the door, Mara turning about to follow him. He paused momentarily, glancing back to Leia.

"This isn't over?" as he spoke he nodded to the table and chairs, indicating their conversations.

Leia felt a smile come to her lips unbidden, "No. In fact I think this is finally beginning."

Leia watched as, despite everything, Luke's face broke into a wide, genuine smile—and oh, he was so much like the Luke she had known. In that instant the last seven years compressed into a single pang of doubt so small as to be insignificant. She felt her own tentative smile widen; felt some buzz of elated empathy connect between them–

–and then he was gone, his footsteps barely a whisper lost in the shadows.

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	32. Chapter 32

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They were moving down the half-lit corridors at speed, little short of a run, retracing their steps back towards one of the freighter's two open loading bays and into the space station beyond, though that was actually plan B; the fact was, they were angling their path, hoping to make a far quicker exit at the first emergecy airlock they managed to reach en-route. "Wait!" Luke slowed yet again, taking Mara's arm. "Not that way."

Mara cursed beneath her breath, frustration burning in her stomach. "That puts the next nearest airlock on this level on…" Mara paused, running the schematics in her head, wishing she'd had more time to study them, "port side, a way forward of us."

They'd run a strangely circuitous route for a short while before Mara had finally voiced her confusion and Luke had stopped briefly to guide her burgeoning powers within the Force, instructing her to look for the edges of the rifts rather than the rifts themselves, like seeing a star in the night sky by not looking directly at it, so that she began, with great concentration, to perceive of the rifts in the Force about them.

"Ysalamiri." She'd known immediately, having been told of them by Palpatine long ago – seen them up close even, though her old master wouldn't accompany her or allow even one of the small, velvet-furred creatures into the Imperial Palace.

Luke had drawn in a breath, nodding as if it all became clear. "Do you sense how many?"

Mara concentrated, "No, just clumps—I don't know, three clumps, maybe four?"

"Try twenty, maybe twenty-five, some large, some smaller. They overlap sometimes—and they're getting closer."

"So they're mobile."

Luke nodded, starting off again at a slow run. He'd seen a few images in his old Master's Intel files and they'd looked small enough to be easily carried.

"How did the Rebels find out about them?" Mara growled, picking up pace beside him. "It's not exactly common knowledge."

"Did Reece know about them?"

"Reece? No, I don't think so," Mara turned sharply. "You think the person he was passing information on to was Organa?"

"No. I asked her directly about some intel I knew Reece had passed on once, and she didn't even flinch."

"Reece would never help the rebellion. Whatever he's doing, it wouldn't be that, he's too committed to the Empire."

"I don't think he's after the Empire; he's after me."

Mara's run turned to a jog, then she slowed to a stop, realization tinting her voice. "Wait a minute – did you _know_ this was a trap?"

Luke slowed, glancing down the corridor, wanting to be gone. "Not specifically. I knew Reece has been like a spooked mynock all week – even Nathan said he was jumpy – and I knew something was wrong with Leia the moment I saw her. But I didn't know what exactly."

"You wanted to see what she'd do…" Mara frowned, the final realization striking, "or rather, if she'd go through with it." She shook her head, "Still playing sabacc, huh? Same game, different chips."

"Before you explode, I'd like to point out that I didn't want you to come."

Mara raised her eyebrows, "You think I would have exploded _less_ if I'd found out that you knew it was a trap and walked into it _alone_ on purpose?"

In the midst of all their problems, Luke grinned, "Well I think you would have been further away, at least."

Mara nodded dryly, "Yeah, you would still have heard it."

Luke glanced back down the corridor. "What I didn't allow for is Madine."

"Reece passed the information to _Madine_?"

Mara was as shocked as Luke had been at that name, but he'd had a little while since Leia had said it to digest the fact, and in hindsight it fitted perfectly.

"I thought he was just playing the Royal Houses—Kiria said he actually took an offer to her directly—but Madine would be the better bet if Reece was aiming this at me and not the Empire; Madine and I have a long history and Reece knows it, plus he knows this is the single time that security's at a minimum to keep these meetings quiet." Luke began to backstep down the corridor, taking Mara's arm, wanting to get moving again. "What I particularly didn't allow for is Madine _and_ ysalamiri – we need to keep moving."

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Leia walked quickly across the small meeting room as Luke and the slim redhead left, but they were still gone by the time she'd reached the door, the only sound she could hear in the empty, half-lit corridor that of her own heart against her ribs, loud as a drum in her ears.

Because she'd done it; she'd been the one to tell him to run. Her hand came to her face, heart still pounding… she'd done the right thing, hadn't she? She had—she _knew_ it.

A half-dozen of Rebel troops in Special Ops gear came around the far corner and passed her, working their advance in two's at a slow, wary pace, weapons ready. Only one of them nodded in acknowledgment as Leia watched them go, frowning at the heavy packs they wore on their back—some kind of a frame… was that something _live_ in the frame?

They passed, and.. _something_ swirled at the back of Leia's mind leaving her momentarily dizzy, as if someone had just pulled the floor from under her feet… then just as quickly the sensation was gone, and Leia blinked, shaking her head.

Then she was alone again, staring at nothing as she wondered at her own actions and listened in the absolute silence to the small voice at the back of her mind, that hazy, indefinable gut feeling so often overwhelmed by the massive weight of responsibilities which lay heavy on her shoulders.

But in that moment… in that moment when she'd sat staring into those uncanny mismatched eyes, it had seemed so totally, overwhelmingly _right_.

She _had_ done the right thing in warning him; she knew it absolutely.

She'd thought she would feel foolish by now for having helped him, angry at herself for having betrayed her own cause, but… no. No; she'd done the right thing.

Leia thought briefly of Han, who had remained with the shuttle, wanting no part of this. She wanted desperately to tell him, to share this epiphany of exhilarating and terrifying consequences. He'd have returned to the _Zephyr_ by now though, the plan being for Leia and all those aboard the _Wasp_ to rendezvous with the _Zephyr_ a half light-year from the space station… she was still staring absently out of the corridor viewport, wondering how exactly they were going to do that from the engineless _Wasp_, when she realized they were moving.

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.

Mara ran at a fast jog down the corridor, her holdout blaster in her hand. It was compact and lightweight, and hardly a match for what Luke had counted grimly into the many dozens of trained and presumably well-armed soldiers who were onboard, based on the rifts he'd perceived in the Force, but as yet Mara hadn't seen a single one—not a shot fired.

Not that she was complaining; she didn't mind stretching the odds a little, but one compact holdout blaster against several dozen E-11's or maybe even A-280's was pushing the envelope even for her. Confined corridors weren't exactly ideal ground to have to cover at speed either, both of them wary that any combination of men, weaponry and hardware could be concealed behind any of the multitude of closed doors they passed.

It was also a big freighter at maybe one hundred-eighty meters, which meant a lot of corridors skirting multiple massive storage bays, and that too was working against them in terms of time to reach either an airlock or the exit bays to the rear of the freighter.

Mara pulled her comlink out and tried it again on the run. "Still blocking the com channels."

"No problem, I can just use the Force to link with a Force-sensitive onboard the Sol Ecliptic and…" he paused, voice dry and teasing rather than angry, "oh wait; you're right here beside me."

Mara narrowed her eyes as they ran, "How long have you been waiting to say _that_?"

"Pretty much since we first started running," Luke said easily, voice hitching as they jogged.

They slowed as they came to a blind bend, Mara lifting her gun and hugging the corner, crouching down before she risked a glance around the edge of the wall.

"Clear."

They were five paces down the corridor when Luke paused, eyes ahead. "Rifts."

"How many?"

"Too many."

Mara glanced to him, "Through or round?"

Luke stared, and Mara sensed his frustration; that he was itching to say, _'Through'_… but the narrow corridors and the multiple blast doors on this stretch were just too much of a risk. He ground his jaw, backstepping. "Round—find another corridor. Are we still heading towards the airlock?"

"Roughly." They were still heading for one of the four airlocks which staggered the length of the big freighter, hoping their intention would be disguised by their more obvious bearing towards the rear bays.

But right now they were backtracking again, opening doors they'd just run past in search of an alternative route, forced to crab diagonally across the ship to also maintain their course towards the nearest airlock. Luke glanced down the corridor they'd just come from, "Are they shutting down the lights behind us?"

"Yeah, 'cos that's gonna bother us." Mara said dryly.

"It will if they get those ysalamiri close enough." Luke said, frowning down the long corridor. "That blast door at the far end was open earlier; we passed through it."

"Fine," Mara muttered, "I've had just about enough of this."

Pulling out the lightsaber Luke had made for her, Mara activated it and pushed the blade down into the floor. A brief flash of sparks lit the semi-darkness as she hit a cable, Luke shying back and guarding his eyes from the blinding flare.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sick and tired of following their little route-plan," Mara said, moving the saber along the floor as fast as the resistance-rated power cables beneath heavy plassteel flooring plates would let her. "I think I'll make my own way out, thanks."

Realizing, Luke glanced about, "The side wall is closer."

"Yeah?" As Mara pulled her saber free the floor shifted briefly beneath her feet, making her stagger to hold her balance momentarily as she glanced to Luke. "Is that you?"

He too had his arms out to balance. "No… is it the freighter?"

"Doing what—it has no sublight engines."

Luke glanced about, reaching his senses through the ever-narrowing passage between the unsettling rifts to open space beyond. "Something's… they've dropped the bay shields outside; the bays open to space."

"Great. Well we're not going out through a side wall now—or the airlock. Not without oxygen masks."

"We could probably…" he paused as the unsettling shift pulled at more basic senses, his internal balance adapting. "We're moving."

"They _have no sublights_!" Mara repeated, though she too could feel the subtle change. "Is there gravity in the bay? You can't alter gravity sufficiently to…" she paused, realization sparking between them in the same instant. "We're under tow!"

"It must have been waiting outside the bay," Luke said. "It's pulling us out."

A tug, Mara realized; a tugship must have been waiting somewhere in the mire of traffic outside the bay to lock a tractor beam onto the side of the freighter when the bay shields dropped. Luke's next question made the burning in her gut rise into her throat.

"Did this thing have lightspeed engines connected up?"

Mara stared, a terrible suspicion coming over her.

"We need to move," Luke said, taking her arm again. "We can't stay still—they're closing in."

"Emergency lifepods." Mara said immediately, though Luke shook his head.

"That's the first thing I would have sabotaged… or filled with ysalamiri and troopers. This isn't a spur of the moment thing, this is well planned."

"Stock bays then," Mara said, knowing he was right; she'd come to the same conclusions even as she'd suggested the lifepods. "We need transport."

"At this point, I'd take a suit." Luke said—then slowed. "Wait."

"Again?! Why don't we just go through them?"

"Because the rifts are getting fewer but bigger, so I'm assuming they're grouping up."

"How much bigger?"

Luke stared down the darkened corridor, his frown pulling the scar about his eye into that familiar crescent. "Big. Two corridors high and the same distance around."

Mara stared ahead, the void just barely discernible to her still-maturing perceptions. "How many people?"

"I don't know."

"Roughly." They backtracked again, opening doors as they spoke, looking for an alternative route.

"Did I mention it's a void?"

"Well how many individual bubbles would make up that space?" Neither paused from opening the run of doors as they spoke, voices calmly conversational but just a little too clipped.

"Firstly, I didn't spend that long comparing actual bubble size, secondly you're assuming there's only one soldier per individual ysalamiri bubble and thirdly…"

"Thirdly, you've finally picked up pontificating with numbers from Reece." Mara said, head on one side.

Luke closed his eyes; "I have _got_ to stop doing that."

"Here!"

Luke turned to join Mara as they set off down the corridor she'd found. They'd made three turns before another lurch indicated the ship's gathering momentum.

"We're out of the bay." Mara said, not breaking her run.

.

.

Onboard the Imperial frigate _Sol Ecliptic_, the atmosphere was beginning to tighten. They'd realized several minutes ago that their com link with Luke and his ops unit was being blocked, but that wasn't entirely unexpected in this type of situation.

Still, the two ops unit Wez had set down on the station had immediately been activated and sent to the area—and had soon disappeared into the blanketed silence.

Wez remained to the front of the bridge, co-ordinating efforts, pleased that he'd been able to make some show of concern and trustworthiness in having placed the extra troops onboard the station to send to the Emperor's aid. He'd had no guarantee that Madine, Wez's ace in the hole, would move today and no idea what the Rebel General would actually do if he did, but all the information Wez had passed on had been leading Madine in this direction. Now he just had to make a good show of outward concerned diliglence, and trust that the ex-Imperial strategist was as good as his reputation. Luke had beaten the General before, but it was always on an even playing field; this time, he didn't know Madine would even be here, and Wez had taken the time to give every possible piece of relevant information he could before finally giving Madine a place and a date.

Now all he could do was react to events as they happened, as everyone else did, though with a very different end goal in mind. Madine was well known to have a personal grudge against the Emperor, and when he'd been an Imperial, he'd had a reputation for settling such things with ruthless finality.

"Helm?" the Captain's tense voice pulled Wez back to the moment, stood on the Sol Ecliptic's bridge, all eyes on the starscape ahead as the small frigate navigated itself between the flurry of general traffic and around the edge of the massive space station.

"We'll have a line of sight in less than a minute, Sir. There's nothing big enough to be a Class VI freighter's engines registering on scans though."

The Tactical officer raised his head, "Sir, we have a relayed message from Ops Two, still in the jamming zone; they say the main doors are closed down on Bay Forty-eight—it's open to space. They can't get entry."

Wez turned, voice tight with concern which wasn't entirely faked; he would like to extricate Jade if he could. If not—well then, he always had Kiria D'Arca in reserve. "Tell them to backtrack and find some suits—and get me the station's commander on the comm."

.

Nearby, Nathan had taken to chewing at his thumbnail, watching the smooth operations of a military ship in an active situation. He should be used to this by now; he'd been on the bridge enough times with Luke, even at full alert. And in both previous meetings between Luke and Organa, there had been jamming on both sides; this was nothing unusual, he told himself again… but Bay Forty-eight was now open to vacuum; surely that wasn't right?

He looked to Wez now, who stood cool and unshakeable beside the _Ecliptic's_ Captain. Ever-cautious Wez, who'd sent the two extra tactical teams in almost immediately that he'd lost contact with Luke.

"Fastest course," Wez said now to Helm, the _Ecliptic's_ Captain turning to Tactical.

"Charge up the batteries, TIE's on standby, shields on full."

Nathan straightened a little more; this was all normal, he assured himself silently; this was just precautions.

"Sir," the Comm Officer glanced up, frowning, "I have incoming on a standard Intel channel; it's marked 'critical'. The comm's from an agent named Argot."

Wez frowned, "Ignore it; Argot doesn't use standard channels. In fact, decode it if it's a standard code and send it to my desk, I'll read it later. See if Intel can get a trace on it."

Nathan walked quickly over, grateful for something to do even if no-one else deemed it important, glancing down to the officer, "Can you decode it here?"

If it _was_ Argot who had risked sending a message on a standard channel which anyone could decode, it must be serious; all comms were usually sent on a secure code, and Argot knew that only Luke had the key. It occurred to Nathan only now as he was thinking about it that if Argot had sent it under standard encrypt, then he hadn't expected Luke to be onboard to read it. Frowning at that, Nathan glanced to the screen on the com console as the message decrypted—and swore under his breath.

"Wez, your really need to read this." Nathan turned to the Captain, hearing the tight tremor in his own voice. "I think we need to sound battle stations."

.

.

There were ten soldiers on the _Wasp's_ bridge when Leia entered, all in Special Ops gear, most of them gathered round the bank of virtual screens to the front of the bridge, Madine among them, watching closely, directing his troops.

What drew her eye more than anything else was the incongruous plexiglass dome attached to the ceiling, a tubular frame made up of two of the backpacks which she'd seen the Special Ops troopers wearing earlier within it, and wrapped about them… were those things again. _Are they __alive_?

"Sir!" the man on tactical looked up from his console, his words drawing Leia's eyes away from the dome. "The _Sol Ecliptic_ is on the move; she's on an intercept course."

"Time to speed?"

"Three minutes Sir; approximately the same to the _Ecliptic's_ intercept."

Leia glanced out across the wide viewpane, which gave about a three hundred degree viewing angle, but the Imperial frigate wasn't in sight yet. A thought occurred and she glanced back; what was 'speed'?

Her eyes fell on Helm Control, where a good eighty percent of the lights which would give standard subspace engine readout were dark of course, the _Wasp_ moving only because she was under tow… so what were the other twenty percent of active lights for?

She only needed one step closer to realize.

.

.

"Go through them." Mara said as she and Luke slowed to a halt, a big enough void in the Force before them that even she could pick it out, though she couldn't define its edges exactly. Luke was being uncharacteristically cautious and she didn't know why; normally he would have drawn his lightsaber and headed directly for the nearest group of soldiers and she knew it, ysalamiri or no.

Instead he shook his head, "We have one blaster between us."

"We have two lightsabers and we can block—you can block a dozen blasters in your sleep."

"And if they get just one of the ysalamiri close– "

"The bubbles aren't blaster-proof and nor are the lizards. You keep the blaster shots off me and I'll shoot it."

"I'm talking about on the floor above or below us, where we can't see it coming—close enough to extend the rift about me. They're watching us, because they're closing and opening blast doors around us; they know exactly where we are. If they move ysalamiri in and we're caught in the rift, I can't protect you."

Mara frowned, starting running again, because Luke had set forward. "We need to get you a blaster."

"Look for a single rift—a small one."

Mara nodded grimly as she ran, "That the guy holding your blaster?"

"Yeah—and I want to see an ysalamiri."

They'd made it a good distance closer to where they knew the bays were before Luke came to a slow stop. "Want the good or bad news?"

"Does it get any worse than this?!"

He raised his eyebrows and she sighed, "Fine—good."

The _Sol Ecliptic's_ closing—I can sense it. Too many minds to be anything else."

"Bad?" Mara felt herself bracing.

"The bay's less than a minute that way—and so are maybe twenty or thirty ysalamiri."

"Between us and the bay?"

Luke nodded, "Unless we can get round somehow."

"There's another bay directly above on the next level up, but I don't know if it had any transport. We'd need to backtrack to get up a level."

"I don't think we have that long."

Mara turned to look down the darkened corridor behind them, aware of a very different kind of shadow which was blotting out her perceptions. "Well they're closing from behind."

Luke shrugged, "One way or another, we need to get into that bay."

Mara took a few steps down a side-corridor before realizing that it too held those dark voids.

Luke's eyes remained ahead. "I don't think there's anyone actually with some of the ysalamiri close to the bay; some haven't moved at all. They might just be to stop us from moving forward toward them—or to corral us into the bay."

"Let's find out which, shall we?"

.

.

A slow-motion drag pulled at the hull beneath Leia's feet as the old freighter gathered momentum and changed direction. She glanced out to see a second tug, this time to the front, the docking bay long gone, the freighter gathering speed under the pull of duel tugs.

Frowning, Leia's eyes dropped to the helm console lights.. and she knew absolutely what Madine was going to do.

Her eyes turned again to the mysterious plasteel bubble at ceiling height.

"Ysalamiri." Madine's voice close behind her made Leia jump. "There are several mentions of them in restricted documents gained at the end of the Clone Wars. Imperial Command Staff had access to some of the high-level Intel retrieved from the storage facility in the Old Republic Jedi Temple. They supposedly create a space about them in which a Force-sensitive's abilities are neutralized." He smiled proudly, "They seem to be working."

"They're alive?" Leia asked, uncertain.

Madine glanced up, appreciative, "Evolution's elegant like that—no matter how smart-a mouse it builds, somewhere out there, it also has something you can use as a trap. And just in case they don't work, well then I have a little extra insurance in the form of man-made bio-science—and friends in high places. But they seem to be doing their job right now."

"They're working?"

Madine nodded; "I've been watching our guests on the security lenses; every time they come close to an ambush, he slows down."

"He can sense the soldiers?"

"No, that wouldn't stop him, I don't think. What's stopping him is that he _knows_ he's going into an area where his skills count for nothing. Somehow, he knows where the ysalamiri are and he knows the extent of their effects. If he's changing course, it's because of the ysalamiri—and that means they work. I have sixty troops onboard this ship, two units armed with specialist weapons. Since they seem a little reticent to oblige in walking into an ambush, I need to get just one man in a firing position."

Tactical turned to the General, "He's trying to get to the bays, Sir."

"Tell Lieutenant Kelo to take the shuttle out right now, then bring the shields online. Start bringing all troops aft to the bay and lock down all other exits, let's get him in there—it's nice and open and we'll have a good line of fire. Tell them not to take any chances, just contain him. We can sort it out when we go to lightspeed."

"What about the woman, Sir?"

Madine shook his head, leaving Leia to walk forward to the tactical display. "Not important. Get rid of her. Helm?"

"About a minute and a half to lightspeed velocity Sir. Hyperdrive's online and primed. We're ready to jump when we're to speed and course."

"Don't wait for my signal—just jump when you're green."

Alone now, Leia's head was buzzing, realization freezing her breath in her chest, heart pounding. When the _Wasp_ was turned clear of the station and onto its path and the tugs had brought it to breakout velocity in gravity-free space, lightspeed engines would engage. They'd jump clear—with Luke onboard. There was a good chance they'd actually catch him; because of Leia, they'd catch him. She'd brought him here, she'd told him it was safe. Because of her, they'd catch him.

They were clear of the station and almost into open space when the _Sol Ecliptic_ came into view to the edge of the viewscreen, its first ranging shots lighting bright streaks across the battered freighter's bow, the last one catching the shields and rattling the ship, the floor bucking beneath her feet.

.

.

They were close to the lower bay when the ship rocked awkwardly, making them stagger slightly.

"Turbolaser fire." Mara said knowingly, long experience identifying it.

Luke nodded without slowing. "The _Sol Ecliptic_."

The rifts in the Force were getting closer and larger now, enfolding them on all sides, though there was a single clear line kept open.

"How many soldiers?" Mara asked again, breathless, as they both were.

"Pick a number," Luke said. "Fifty—a hundred?"

He still had no gun, which was far too much of a coincidence considering the amount of armed soldiers on this ship, based on the amount of rifts in the Force; the plan was clearly to avoid he and Mara at all costs and try to direct them by locking and unlocking blast doors from some central location, leaving ysalamiri at the far side of each closed door to stop Luke simply ripping them open again with the Force, should they try to double back. Luke was sorely tempted to try to do so anyway, opening the doors by using their lightsabers to go looking for a blaster, save for the time it would waste. He was pretty damn sure that every single blast door they'd passed through would now be locked down; they were being corralled neatly towards the main bays at the rear of the freighter.

He glanced again to Mara as they ran, inwardly cursing his decision to let her come today; he'd known something was going to happen, but he'd let himself be persuaded, let opportunitiesin their escape he'd normally take without hesitation pass rather than put Mara at risk, and now…

Now they were both well aware that this was probably a trap they were about to spring in the docking bay, but it was also their only way off this ship, the only possible landing for the gunboats that Luke _knew_ were heading their way. His hand brushed unthinkingly against his saber as he slowed and he took it from his belt, thumb to the trigger; again he was tempted to start cutting his own path with it to at least hinder Madine's plans, but was unwilling to risk wasting time, aware on some subliminal level that it was running out.

"Bet you wish we'd done more lightsaber practice now, huh?" Mara joked mirthlessly, glancing to Luke's hand.

"If I were wishing, I'd wish we were back on the _Sol Ecliptic_." Luke said, slowing to a walk before the half-open bay doors. "Or that the ysalamiri weren't here, in which case this would have been nothing more than a little light exercise. Ready?"

.

.

Leia stood several steps back, close to the auxiliary console, eyes on the strange creatures lying docilely against the thick tubes in the plasteel globe, bright flares of the Imperial Frigate's fire reflecting across its surface as they streaked across the _Wasp's_ bow in close succession, catching the shields and rattling the ship.

"Incoming!" Tactical said. "The Imperial frigate's got line-of-sight and its coming in hot. Plus I have two TIE squadrons and two gunboats."

"Time to intercept?"

"Four of the TIE's and one of the gunboats will make contact before we can jump, Sir. Shields are on eighty percent."

"Keep them tiled aft, the gunboat'll try to get under them."

_Gunboat; landing craft_, Leia knew. They were trying to get onboard—trying to get to Luke. Another long-range blast impacted against the shields, rocking the old freighter precariously, and she looked down to the unmanned secondary tactical console at her hip; they had augmented military shielding, but it was fading fast.

"Shields down to seventy percent Sir."

"Keep them between us and the gunboats; we'll take a hit elsewhere if we have to, to keep those gunboats out."

Leia's eyes darted between the incoming TIE's and gunboats, and the unmanned tactical console, her attention on the eroding shield readouts and the slow countdown to lightspeed; they were almost in position, the hyperspace engines up to full power… they'd make it, she realized; it would be a bumpy ride, but they'd actually make it—

And in that moment, it was so easy; she'd thought it would be some monumental struggle between duty and conscience, between past friendship and present loyalties... but it was none of that. It wasn't even a choice; it was a gut feeling of such innate power and conviction that all she could do was act.

She reached out to the unmanned console and toggled the board switches, dropping the _Wasp's_ shields.

.

.

Onboard the forward gunboat, Wez stood stiffly behind the two pilots, Clem, ten stormtroopers and a further half-dozen Special Ops soldiers behind him, weapons ready.

They were flying at full tilt to match the freighter's speed, close enough to see inside the two stacked bays now, movement in both, but the _Wasp's_ military-rated shields were holding them back, unable to push through.

Wez pursed his lips, annoyed; he hadn't wanted to lose Jade at the same time as Skywalker. She was his primary choice for…

With a ripple of dissipating current, the dense shields before them dissolved. Wez grinned, leaning forward, "Go, go, go!"

.

.

Luke was in the bay, he and Mara pinned down by a flurry of intense blaster fire, forced to take cover behind fast-disintegrating storage crates. The laser bolts were a constant stream, clearly meant more to hold them still than to actually bring them down, their aim often wild, but the sheer massed quantity was doing the job, the soldiers clearly emptying their blasters in continuous fire then reloading, their number making for a near-continuous stream.

They'd made it further in than they had any right to, but Luke could see how Mara was holding her own handgun now; see that it was running hot in her hands. There were five dead soldiers in the bay, three of whom Mara had brought down and two Luke, deflecting bolts back to their originators with his lightsaber, but all five had fallen within the ever-increasing influence of the ysalamiri, so although their blaster rifles lay on the floor beside them, they may as well be back on Kwenn Station for all the use they were to Luke.

He glanced to Mara; saw her mouth, _'Well this isn't working'_ to him, though he heard nothing over the cacophony of blaster bolts, and came to the decision he'd been mulling over for the last minute. Activating his saber into the deck plates, he began to cut, the drag from shielded cables making the hilt reverberate up his arm.

"What are you doing _now_?" she yelled.

Luke glanced up from his task, "We're leaving this party."

He had no intention of doing so... but Mara could—and if Luke stayed, he was pretty damn sure they wouldn't follow her. He could buy her a chance to backtrack; odds she could deal with.

As he looked back down, the small area of awareness left to them in the Force shrinking rapidly to a narrow fissure, Mara grabbed his arm, shouting his name.

Luke glanced up to the back of the docking bay in time to see the freighter's external defensive shields drop, their pale milky signature clearing, giving a perfect view of the fast-receding Kwenn Station and incoming TIE's, a closing gunboat coming in hot, it's nose up a fraction too high—

And Luke knew what was going to happen.

He figured he had less than a minute. He turned to Mara, crouched beside him. "Listen to me. You need to go to my private office; to the isolated data store there. Do a search for a document called "Extrapolated Rim Fleet movements, dated last year. You'll need a password to open it as well as the DNA check; the password is 'emerald eyes', got it? Say it back."

Mara nodded, "Document, rim fleet movements, password is emerald eyes." She paused, realizing it was her; emerald eyes.

"Open it. It's everything—the long-term plan, the strategy for the next five years, everything I intended. If I don't– "

"Don't even– "

"Listen! If I don't make it back, everything is in there. I can't make you do any of it, just like Palpatine couldn't make me follow his… but I can ask. I can hope." He shook his head, "Don't let this derail it, Mara. Don't let a few radicals destroy seven years of my life and everything I was pushing toward."

"I don't need to see it—I won't open it." They both paused, the sounds of their pursuers closing—on _him_; it was _him_ they wanted, _him_ they'd all stay with and Luke knew it. The gunboat was roaring overhead now—into the upper bay; Luke had known it would from the angle of the nose. There was one way up there from this bay; an exposed ladderway quarter way into the bay. Too exposed.

"Promise me you'll read it." Luke was half-rising, starting to step back; he'd got Mara into this—now he'd get her out.

"No!" Mara snatched his arm, eyes wide in realization. "Why are you even saying this, I'm not leaving you here."

They didn't have time to argue, he needed to get her out; if that was all he managed then it was enough. He _had_ to get her out. _Tell her anything, tell her what she wants to hear— _"Damn straight you won't. I'm banking on you, Mara, to find me and get me out. You'll know where to find me with the Force—no-one else can do it."

She didn't have the ability of course; no-one did, not to track someone systems away—but she didn't _know_ that.

Still, she held onto him as Luke tried to backstep, "No, I'm not leaving you. Last time, I walked away, I know I did. You said it yourself, I walked away—well not this time. I'm not leaving…"

"Mara!" He caught his temper, quietened his voice, "Get the hell out of here. There's no time for this."

"Why would I leave you?" Mara clutched at his arm as he tried to push her away, her voice rising, but Luke forestalled further arguments by wrapping strong fingers about the back of her neck and pulling her to him, kissing her passionately—and why did she believe that was the last time he ever would?

The far doors slid open and there was the scuffing of many feet as more Rebel troops entered the bay, unseen behind the cover of the packing crates. This time the new blaster fire sounded different, the release a hollow _thunk_ of compressed air; something ricocheted off their cover with a hollow pang, another whistling close by in a blur, a solid projectile which embedded in the wall nearby. Mara glanced, attention momentarily taken by the bright tuft of red—_a dart?_

"Go!" Luke pushed her away, backing up—then he whispered her name, a grin on his face as he turned back; "Mara! Anakin—his name should be Anakin."

She frowned, uncertain what he meant, but he'd already turned away, moving swiftly back towards the troops, using the crates for cover but letting them see him momentarily; drawing their attention. Mara turned and ran.

She ran—but it wasn't away; it wasn't to leave him here; never that. She could hear the whine of the gunship's engines in the bay above and she knew it would be brimming with guards and weapons. He only had to hold them a minute—just one minute and she'd be back with the numbers to stop Madine's troops dead.

He only had to hold them a minute.

One minute without getting himself killed.

She climbed the narrow access ladder at speed, concentrating on getting one hand over the other, the whine of the gunboat's engine in the bay above growing closer; seconds—she only needed seconds…

And then he was gone; in a flash, from moment to moment, Luke was gone.

She spun about, heart pounding—but he was there; he was right there, close to where she'd left him, sidestepping to new cover as Madine's troops closed in. Mara shook her head, trying to clear it, her perceptions within in the Force blank, too many ysalamiri crowded together, blanketing out the Force over a wide range as Madine's troops moved ever closer. Which meant Luke was cut off from the Force; he had no powers, nothing to counter the Rebel troopers' guns!

Mara turned about, cursing, covering the remaining rungs at speed, releasing the overhead hatch with trembling hands and throwing it open, the noise of the military gunboat above ear-splitting.

It was close to the hatch, its side doors open as it hovered, stormtroopers and Special Ops leaning out of either side, a few dropping clear as the hatch was opened wide, the first splashes of laser fire from Rebels in the bay impacting on the gunboat, crouching stormtroopers giving return fire.

Someone pointed, the gunboat crabbing, tilting as it moved closer. The firefight increased as the gunboat tried to put itself between Mara and the Rebels in the upper bay, the first few shots beginning to focus on her now. The noise was incredible as it came to a landing directly before her, whipping Mara's loose hair about her face as Reece jumped out.

Mara half-pulled herself through the access hatch, frantic, "Here! Over here! Give me a blaster! Luke…"

Reece landed on the run and grabbed her by the top of her arm, hauling her clear of the narrow access hatch and yanking her back into the gunboat, the air knocked from her lungs in a winded gasp, the blaster she held jolted from her grip as the back of her hand caught painfully against the edge of the hatch, still gasping, unable to pull a breath to speak–

Mara struggled to pull free against Reece's pull, still winded, but Reece was already turning to the pilot as he held onto her arm, "Go! Go, Go!"

The gunboat lifted, raking at a steep angle as it turned and powered free of the bay, stormtroopers holding their arms out to pull companions into the open hold, everyone staggering as the ship caught the first burst of heavy-arms fire; someone in the bay had finally pulled out an anti-aircraft gun. Everyone was thrown across the small gunboat, the hold hatch sliding shut beside Mara just as they cleared the Bay's atmospheric shields, a blinding splash of multiple heavy laser blasts impacting on the armored hull, darkening the ship's lights as power automatically rerouted to the shields.

Mara was on her feet, grabbing for the back of the cockpit chair, still gasping for air, "Turn around! Turn us round!"

Reece was beside her in an instant, hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Stay on course."

The ship weaved slightly but resumed its course, Mara frantic as the distance increased by the second, "Turn us around—that's an order!"

"Stay on course," Reece repeated, voice steel. "That's an order from the Emperor."

Mara whirled on him, incensed. Reece was fast for a big man but now all that bulk which had enabled him to manhandle Mara onboard worked against him, and the blaster from his hip-holster was in her fist and at his chest before he could react,

"Bastard! Bastard son of a Hutt. You sold him out! You sold him to them!"

In that second all Mara wanted to do was spray Reece over the inside of the gunboat, but Clem was beside her, his own firearm drawn though in that moment he clearly had no idea where to point it, Reece holding the higher rank.

"_HE'S_ the traitor—the informer!" Mara yelled, livid. "Luke knew, he _knew_ it was Reece." The other troopers were hovering now, blasters raising, though they too were uncertain what to do. "Why are we here?!" Mara shouted, "Why are we here when Luke's back there? Because of _his_ order! Intel knows; contact them—contact Arco. They have a team watching him but Luke said…" she broke slightly at this but caught herself, "He said wait—he wanted proof."

Slowly all the blasters turned to Reece, and Mara had the momentary satisfaction of seeing his shoulders drop a fraction, seeing the look in his eye when he realized he was exposed. But it was empty and aching and drowned by greater fears.

Clem whirled on the pilot, Reece's previous order—supposedly in the Emperor's name—instantly dismissed. "Bring us about!!"

The gunboat banked again as it turned in a tight curve back towards the freighter, piling on every ounce of thrust it could muster as it accelerated toward the Rebel ship, the glow from incoming laser blasts lighting the open cockpit as the pilot struggled to hold course, "Tile shields to front only; put any extra power in the engines—everything we've got!"

The gunboat weaved and bucked as more shots hit, internal lights dimming to hold the shields against repeated impacts. The bright flare of a high-power turbolaser whited out Mara's vision as the _Sol Eclipse_ scored a direct hit to the freighter near the bridge, TIE's racing past to engage the enemy… but Mara knew already that it was futile; that they were too far away, that the freighter would make hyperspace before they reached it.

A sob hitched in the back of her throat, half fury, half fear as she stood, able to do nothing more than watch as the freighter accelerated to lightspeed, disappearing in a flash of engine backwash. Knowing that Luke was gone, that they had no idea where, that he would be moved from place to place, from ship to ship…

if he wasn't already dead.

She staggered back, reality turning an inverse loop, leaving her dizzy and numb and nauseous.

She was two steps back into the cramped hold before she remembered who was behind her and turned on Reece, eyes ablaze, grabbing at his jacket and yanking him forward. "You're gonna wish I had shot you, Reece. I'll see you hang for this—everything they do to him, I'll do to you… then I'll turn you inside out and show you your own devious, scheming, faithless heart before you die!"

Mara's blaster was pushed up beneath Reece's jaw, hand beginning to tremble, a high-pitched buzzing in her ears and reality still one step away. Some sense seethed within her, pushing her on as never before, screaming for action, for vengeance—it would be so easy to pull the trigger...

Clem stepped carefully to her side, cool and self-possessed as ever, laying a hand gently on her arm, "Ma'am, we need to question him. He may have information vital to the situation…"

As he spoke, one of the troopers stepped forward to pull a set of restraints from his belt to bind Reece's hands behind his back, pushing him bodily down onto the bench behind him.

Clem's voice, stalwart as ever, was a distant dream in Mara's numbed mind as he recited the official arraign; "Wez Reece, you are ordered to stand down in the name of the Emperor. The charge you are accused of is High Treason, and you will be taken into detention until such a time as that charge will be dealt with in a Court of Law according to Imperial Justice."

Reece didn't react, only looked at Mara as she released him in a shove, feeling angry words lock in her throat, the first tears starting to cloud her eyes as she turned back to stare out at empty space.

She'd lost him—she'd lost Luke.

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	33. Chapter 33

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Madine sat at his desk onboard the _Wasp_, five lightyears from Kwenn. They'd sustained heavy damage in those last few seconds, the bridge taking a glancing hit whilst the shields were down, several of his crew injured—including the Chief of Staff, who was on the bridge at the time.

The _Wasp_ had enough redundant systems that someone in engineering had sent the ship into lightspeed and saved all their hides, as well as the mission, but five staff had been transferred back over to the Zephyr with the Chief of Staff, all suffering serious injuries. They were still trying to patch together the wreck that was the _Wasp's_ bridge in readiness for their next jump, using supplies taken from the Zephyr before it had set off toward Home-One with the injured Chief of Staff onboard, as well as trying to track what exactly had happened in those last few seconds; the bridge consoles were well past any system-retrieval.

But at the end of the day it didn't matter; the mission had been a complete success; Madine had the Emperor unconscious and in the cell, he was clear and free, and the _Wasp_ would be ship-shape—or at least enough to make another jump—within the hour.

Meanwhile, Madine was taking the realspace opportunity to check up on Chief Organa's condition, waiting to be put through to the medicentre onboard the Home-One now that the _Zephyr_ had docked there.

"Good evening General Madine," the perfectly synthesised voice of a 2-1B droid said in sympathetic tones, "may I be of assistance?"

"Yes, I need to check on the status of Chief Organa."

"Please state your clearance, Sir."

"Clearance is Alpha, Alpha Indigo, three-nine-two."

"Thank you Sir. Chief Organa's condition is stable. She sustained a blow to the head and minor internal injuries, as well as lacerations to one arm which resulted in substantial blood loss. Unfortunately she has an unusual blood-group, and we're unable as yet to find a suitable donor—there are none onboard Home-One. The patient has a previous history of poor toleration of synthetic simulates."

"There's no Alderaanian survivors onboard Home-One?"

"I'm afraid none are suitable, due to the patient's mixed-origin parentage, Sir. I must reassure you that this is in no way life-threatening, though it will slow her recovery a little. I would have preferred to have the option of a transfusion."

Madine frowned; mixed-origin parentage wasn't at all unusual in an Empire which spanned star-systems—but Chief Organa was a member of the Alderaanian Royal House. Everyone knew of the Alderaanian Ascendency Contention and how it was settled; her parentage was surely from the House Antilles and House Organa? He shrugged, dismissing the fact as irrelevant; what mattered was that his successful mission wouldn't be overshadowed by the death or serious injury of the Chief of Staff. The droid was still speaking, though Madine was barely listening now.

"… that hers is a very rare genetic code. I extended the parameters of the donor search to encompass the fleet, but with no success, I'm afraid. Records identify that the only viable donor was a Rebel pilot who died on Hoth, and he left no freeze-stored donations of blood or plasma."

Madine's hand was already resting on the comlink's cutoff button, having gained all he needed to know and mentally running through the necessary words to sign off quickly… when he paused. "Hoth… a pilot?"

"Yes Sir, a pilot of some note, I believe. Unit Commander Luke Skywalker."

The comment, so casually thrown out, had so nearly passed by unnoticed by Madine—until that name was spoken. Now he stiffened, "Do you have a DNA code for Skywalker?"

"No, General, only a marker on his closed medical record listing his rare blood group. I believe more detailed information was classified by Mon Mothma on Commander Skywalker's death."

_No… let this drop; why even bother to ask_… "Do you have a full genetic code for Leia Organa?"

"Of course, Sir."

Madine considered long moments, alternately dismissing the facts as pure coincidence and wondering at the unlikely fluke. "And there are no other possible donors?"

"None, Sir. As I said, it is an unprecedented genetic category. We are presently trying to alter the properties of the synthetic simulate but with no success so far."

"What are her chances without the transfusion?"

"As I said, they are excellent, General, this will slow her recovery time a little, that is all."

Madine cut the connection, wary of keeping it open too long whilst the _Wasp_ was caught in realspace, something uneasy scratching at the back of his thoughts and leaving him restless and jittery, but this was too anomalous to even consider.

Tag Massa , the Alliance's Intel Chief, had listed yet again in her monthly overview that another sweep had come up blank in their ongoing search for the spy in their midst. Again Massa had hypothesized that, based on available extrapolations, the spy had access to a high level of security information, in all probability at Command level….

No, this was his nerves still jangling from the mission.

He sighed and wiped at his eyes, fingers trailing down his face to rub his beard in thought, gazing out into the empty void of space, distant stars dotting the darkness, trying to make sense of the facts…

The thought was so outrageous as to be dismissed immediately, if only on career grounds; one didn't throw dirt at the figurehead of the Rebel Alliance; it was political suicide. But it hovered in the back of Madine's mind, demanding attention because no matter how hard he tried to ignore it now, it had sown some seed of uncertainty. Finally he conceded, telling himself that he needed to put the thought to rest in order to move forward and there was one simple way to do that.

He needed to speak to someone onboard the Home-One whom he could trust unconditionally, one person who'd always maintained absolute neutrality, her position demanding no less.

Madine opened a connection to Massa on a secure channel. She was there immediately, tense expression readable even over the small holoprojector. "Sir. I understand the mission was a success… do you have the Emperor there? Is he alive?"

"We have him, Tag. Whether he stays in one piece is another matter."

Massa frowned, "Sir, may I respectfully remind you that you don't have the authority to make any such decisions until..."

Madine cut across her, not wishing to hear this now, "I need you to access a file for me." He paused; "Everything we say in this conversation is to be regarded as classified; its existence is to be scrubbed from the logs, do you understand?"

Massa paused, lips tightening, "Yes sir, I understand."

"You have a full copy of the Emperor's files from the time he spent with the Alliance?"

"Yes Sir, it's stored in the secure Intel vault."

"There's also a blood sample stored in the high-security medical system on Home-One. I need you to take Skywalker's medical files and have his DNA breakdown checked against that blood sample… then I need you to ask the Two-OneBee droid treating Leia Organa to make a comparative study."

Massa frowned, "With the Emperor? For what reason, sir?"

"Massa, I need you to follow orders on this. Don't let anyone else know you're doing it, particularly Organa."

Massa hesitated, clearly uneasy at so great-a breach of protocol. "Sir, I can't withhold information from the head of the Alliance."

Madine paused, but he could trust Massa, he was sure. She'd been Special Ops long before she'd been Intel, and her eye had always been on the greater picture. "She may not…." he broke off, but knew that the Intel Chief understood. "This needs to be done, Massa. It needs to be done quietly and it needs to be now."

On Home-One, Tag Massa scowled at Madine's holo. If he was trying to establish some link between the Chief and… surely not; the Emperor would know—wouldn't he already know? But then Madine now had access to him. Had he learned something already?

Aware of Madine's eyes on her, she pursed her lips and nodded once, "I'll see to it Sir. How will I get in touch with you?"

"We'll keep position here and be reachable for another hour. After that we jump again so I'll have to contact you. Try to get back to me before that."

"Of course sir." Tag cut the transmission, deeply disturbed by this unexpected turn of events, aware that all her usual lines of contact were cut. In the event, all she could do was follow her standing orders and react to information as it came in, as uncertain as anyone else as to the outcome.

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"Yes, Chief Massa?" The 2-1B droid turned expectantly when she entered the outer medibay, and she glanced around before continuing, deeply uneasy for so many reasons.

"I need you to do a check for me; there's a medical file with a DNA breakdown on this chip which corresponds to a high-security sample in your medical vaults." Tag chose not to give a name to the unlocked file, knowing it would be stored by reference number only. "Its classified information—be sure to treat it as such. I'd like a comparison between this and Chief Organa's DNA. This is a Class-A Security rated order—discuss it with no-one. I want the results as soon as possible."

"Of course, Sir. I'm afraid I'm unable to execute the order without a member of the Chiefs of Staff with me at all times, otherwise I'm unable to access the secure sample."

"I'll wait."

"Thank you, Sir. May I ask who the medical file pertains to?"

"That's classified," Tag said simply. "I'd appreciate it if you could begin this now."

"Of course. You may wait outside if…"

"No, I'll wait in the room," Tag said firmly. "Please continue."

The droid turned to begin his work as Tag backed up to the far wall, unable to quite outpace the uneasy mix of guilt and nerves which shadowed her step.

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Luke woke slowly, mind numb with a heavy stillness that left him silent and listless, listening to his own breathing as his vision slowly cleared and he realized that he was staring at a roughly-plastered wall a few inches from his face.

He was aware of being cold—of the cool, hard floor pressing against him down one side. Of the pain in his neck from the position he lay in, of the dull ache in his right shoulder which had never quite left since the assassination attempt, always taking any opportunity to resurface. As he came round a little more he became aware of that particular stillness that dulled the sound about him, deadening it to a familiar hushed weight.

Luke's heart skipped in bone-deep recognition and he scuffled backwards, fighting to scrabble upright, struggling awkwardly because his hands and ankles were bound. For that first scarlet second memories merged with reality and he was twenty-two again, locked in the bright white cell beneath the Imperial Palace, waiting for Palpatine to enter. Moments burst forth in a scarlet smear across his thoughts triggered by the familiarity of his prison. Of white, actinic light which seared his eyes, of burnt flesh and scorched air, of wild fury and vindictive rage, of sharp arcs of power that lashed and slashed, arcing through him and searching to ground, raw power so intense that his muscles cramped and his lungs paralysed. No time, no awareness, only torment so profound that everything else was scorched away… of twelve Red Guard.

His shoulder hit the wall behind him with a heavy jolt which stopped him dead, breaking the moment, leaving him gasping for air, chest heaving…

And slowly, very slowly as he stared, wild-eyed, his mind registered that the cell wall before him was not blinding white but dull, permacrete gray. It was not plastered and smoothed to a polished sheen but bare blocks which grazed his arm through thin cloth as he pressed against them, their interlocking construction clearly visible, the angled edges roughly cemented. The floor too was the same cast gray, rough and pocked, some mineral content in the aggregate.

Still breathing shakily he glanced about, more recent memories dropping into place with terrible clarity. No Palpatine here, no Red Guard with pipes and force pikes… but just as bad.

Out of the pan into the fire.

He glanced to the old and worn gray flightsuit he was now wearing, feet bare; to his hands, already throbbing steadily from too-tight binders, automatically reaching out with the Force to pull in the power and break the binders which held… and froze, eyes wide, breath still.

There was nothing; no contact, no rush of awareness, no widening of perceptions, no burst of capability. No Force. Nothing. Adrenaline though, hot and burning in the back of his throat as he remembered the meeting with Leia, the impenetrable emptiness which surrounded himself and Mara… Mara!

Luke twisted about, his neck and shoulders wrenching in a jarring pain—but aside from himself the cell was empty.

They could just as easily have her nearby, in another cell. They had no need to keep her in a double-skinned cell like this; this was to hold a Jedi and no-one knew of Mara's abilities.

She could be nearby, injured or unconscious…

_Don't let her be hurt_. He made every plea and every pact with anything he'd ever believed in to keep her safe, to protect her. For long seconds he remained paralyzed with fear, unable to move past this one, terrifying fact, his mind not on himself but on her. He could handle this, he could dig in and let it wash over him, as he had so many times with Palpatine… but if they hurt her, if they even threatened to…

Slowly he calmed, admonishing his own negative thoughts; she could have escaped—she surely had. He'd told her to, cajoled her to, ordered her to, buying her what time he could, knowing that if they split up Madine's men would concentrate on him. She should be free now; they were so close to the chance; he'd seen her on the narrow rungs of the ladderway, he remembered that—she was surely gone already?

His breathing slowly calmed as he ran the last few seconds he remembered over and over in his head; he'd pulled back to draw their attention, moved out to let himself be seen, knowing they'd follow him and ignore Mara… and he remembered the sound of the gunboat in the bay above—had it taken off? He remembered the sound of the engines changing pitch, flaring… if it had taken off she was surely onboard.

But his own memory fell to darkness before he could be sure and despite his resolve, Luke was left with the nagging fear that Madine would drag her into the cell and put a gun to her head, because if he did… if he did, then Luke would give anything to buy her life. That was the fact, wasn't it? It had worked for Palpatine and it would work here, now. Hadn't he said it to Leia; that whatever else he was, he was still that man who wouldn't leave his friends to die on Bespin. He would give anything… everything to save her life. Hers, and…

That old familiar snick and rush of equalizing air pressures sounded as the door opened behind him, bringing Luke's head around. The air rushed in as Luke's eardrums sealed momentarily, his mind registering distantly that the vacuum system they had here was insufficient, before Madine entered the cell, three armed soldiers ahead of him, three behind him.

He stood for long seconds watching Luke rise awkwardly, before loosing the blaster in the hip holster he wore and stepping closer.

"Your _Excellency_," he said slowly, words both savoring and mocking.

"Crix Madine." Before that mocking face Luke found his center, if only to deprive his jailor of the pleasure of seeing the cracks. He looked Madine briefly up and down before holding his gaze on the man's face in closer study. "You're getting old."

"Maturing," Madine said in reply. "Something you'll never enjoy."

"I'd say I already have the edge on you in that," Luke replied coolly. "I tend not to undermine my own Chief of Staff's attempts at forging galactic peace on a personal whim."

"No… you simply decapitate your leader when he gets in your way." Madine smiled grimly, "Oh I'm sorry—it was sudden death following a short illness, wasn't it?"

"That's right. You should be careful; that kind of affliction that can strike out of the blue, when you least expect it."

Unconcerned, Madine nodded slowly, taking his time to study his prize captive. Now, up close, Skywalker still looked young to Madine, despite the heavy scar which traced the right side of his face from browline to jaw. He still had that same open, easy countenance, tan, healthy skin…but his eyes…his eyes told the truth.

"I think you're gonna give me trouble," Madine stated tightly, and Luke remained still, holding his stare, aware that he was baiting the man but unwilling as yet to back down.

When he didn't reply, Madine stepped closer, prompting, "Are you?

"You seem to be the one holding the blaster," Luke observed calmly. It felt somehow… right that he should once more find himself like this; alone, facing off against an adversary who had the stronger hand; whom he knew would turn on him with the sole intent of making his life as unpleasant as possible. Who would clearly take great pleasure in pushing just to see when Luke would break. There was a strange comfort in familiarity—even this.

Madine narrowed his eyes, amused by Luke's observation, "That's right I am—and doesn't it just screw you up inside?"

Again Luke didn't answer, making Madine grin, "You don't like me, do you? You think I'm a traitor to your treasured Empire."

"I think you should stop projecting your own guilty conscience onto others, Madine," Luke replied, holding his ground. "We all do things which we know are questionable, even if we believe it's for the right reasons. Learn to live with it. I actually couldn't care less about you personally. But I don't like what you're doing… to the Alliance."

"Really?" Madine sneered, "'cos I don't think I like what you're doing to the Empire."

"I don't think you have a say anymore, Madine," Luke stated flatly.

Madine stepped back slightly, a knowing look in his eyes, "I'd say the same of you with the Alliance—except you do, don't you? In fact not only do you have a say, I think you may well have a vested interest… am I right?"

Luke frowned just slightly, unsure what his captor was getting at; was it the obvious—had he bugged the room that Luke and Leia had used?

Madine leaned in, his next words for Luke alone, "You see, I know about Leia Organa."

Luke's face remained a mask, no reaction visible in his face or in his even, dismissive voice. "I would assume so, since that's how you got to me."

Madine shook his head just slightly, a tight sneer on his lips and in his voice, "No, I know everything."

Luke frowned just slightly; did he? Could he possibly know what Luke had intended? No; if he knew then Leia must have, and it would have been the first thing on her agenda when they'd met—in fact, she probably would have never organized that third meeting, knowing that if he couldn't get the deal he needed, Luke would have used their meetings to tear the Alliance apart. No, she didn't know… a twist of trepidation occurred, stilling his thoughts—or was that why she'd handed him over to Madine? No, he would have known; would have sensed it at the time.

_Stop double-guessing yourself._

Madine's eyes remained steady on him and Luke raised his chin fractionally, voice even, "You're clearly looking for some kind of reaction to that, but I'm afraid I can't give one—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is that a fact?" Madine said, becoming more and more irritated at his captive's apparent calm. "Because here's the thing, see; I have a few interesting facts of my own. But let's just back them up shall we—just so we're all crystal clear."

As he spoke, Madine gestured one of the guards forward. The man passed his blaster rifle to a comrade before stepping in, pulling out a pocket-sized Perspex box as he did so. He took a small sample syringe from it and reached out for the binders on Luke's wrists, pulling his hands up. Luke let the man turn his right hand over, not sure what this was about, his eyes still on Madine as the guard pressed the short clear vial to his skin then hit the other end, the needle pushing through its sterile guard and into the flesh of his palm below his thumb.

The man frowned, slapping the syringe again, making Luke jolt slightly this time, the lines about his eyes deepening just for a second.

"He doesn't bleed!" There was a nervousness in the soldier's voice which was infectious, the other men glancing to each other uncertainly.

Madine was less impressed. "Oh he bleeds," he stated, eyes on Luke, the unspoken threat obvious. "Your Sith Emperor is flesh and blood just like the rest of us." He turned to the guard, head set to one side, voice sardonic, "You might want to try the other hand—that's prosthetic."

The man dropped Luke's hand, cursing at his own uneasy nerves. One of the others laughed, releasing his own nervous tension, "Got the jitters there, Tinel?"

Luke said nothing, letting the man lift his other hand without comment, glancing just once to take in his face now that he had a name, aware that their deeply wary preconceptions could be useful—or a hindrance; time would tell.

The man slapped the stubby sample syringe against his left palm and the short, wide needle sank in, quickly filling the small chamber with blood.

Madine remained near, trying to intimidate by his close presence, taking the sample to hold it up before Luke. "Well, well; Sith bleed just like the rest of us—isn't that interesting."

He turned, throwing the sample back to Tinel, who was already stepping back, still eager to get clear.

"That'll clear a few things up, I'm sure… and we'll be happy to disseminate the information across the HoloNet. Maybe you won't be quite as all-powerful when you have a past, like the rest of us."

Luke met Madine's tight-lipped smile with one of his own, "There are no answers there, Madine; just more questions."

"Oh I already have all the answers, _Excellency_," he assured, offering the last with a curled lip. "This is for the benefit of others. Nothing blows all those divisive, whispered rumors apart like cold truth."

"Really?" Luke asked dryly. "Then tell me where I was born. Tell me that and I'll believe you."

Madine shook his head, that deriding smile still in his eye, as if he thought Luke was trying to catch him out—then he leaned forward close enough to whisper... close enough that Luke could have struck out and snapped his neck, even without the Force, or used the heel of his hand to shatter the bone of Madine's nose and drive it up into his skull, killing him instantly… but he couldn't resist; he just couldn't resist the temptation to listen–

Madine whispered quietly, intending for some reason that the word remain between the two of them, before leaning back, that knowing, self-congratulating look still in his eye.

Then he turned and walked from the small cell, the six guards following, backing from the room with blasters drawn, the door sealing with a hermetic hiss… and still Luke remained frozen, gaze held on the far wall as it had been when Madine had spoken, the slightest of frowns showing at the corners of mismatched eyes…

Why had he said; '_Alderaan'?_

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	34. Chapter 34

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Leia woke slowly, mind numb, listening to her own breathing as her vision slowly cleared and she realized that she was staring at the plain, semi-illuminated tiles of a medi-bay ceiling…and a face.

"Hey sweetheart. How's the headache going?" Han asked solicitously, his blurred face coming slowly into focus.

"Uh…" it was all Leia could summon in the moment. She blinked rapidly, the space behind her eyes pounding in time to her heartbeat. "What happened?"

"The _Wasp_ got a glancing hit from that Imperial frigate, just before it went to lightspeed. Took most of the damage around the main bridge. Apparently you were in there and decided to catch a falling main-beam with the top of your head. You took a chunk outta your arm too, but you're all bacta'd up now."

"Wait… we took a hit?"

Han nodded, "Your shields were down."

Leia sat abruptly up, and was rewarded for her troubles by a pang that felt like someone had just hit her across the back of her head with a club, making her gasp.

Han leaned in, "Hey, take it easy sweetheart. You've been out a full day, you know. You should…"

"Han, it was me!"

"… what?"

"It was me—I dropped the shields on the _Wasp_."

"No, the Imperial frigate took down…"

"Listen to me! It was me, I dropped the shields… Don't look at me like that!" The last she added because Han was staring at her with his very best, 'O_kay, I'll humor you 'cos you're clearly still off your head'_ look.

It didn't change when he finally spoke. "Hey, in my own defense you do have concussion."

"That doesn't mean…" she broke off, grabbing for Han's arm. "Luke! What happened to Luke?"

Han pursed his lips, and really that was all Leia needed to know. She slumped back down onto the bed, knowing it had all been futile. "No… I did it to get him off. There was a gunboat trying to board, to pull him off the _Wasp_, and I dropped the shields so it could get into the bay."

"Wait, you were tryin' to get Luke _off_? Correct me if I'm wrong, but last time we spoke—yelled—you were backin' Madine's plan to catch him and telling me it was the right thing to do. Bigger picture, all that."

Leia covered her face with her hands,her arm throbbing painfully as she lifted it. "Oh, this is terrible… where is he now?"

"Could we just clarify the Luke thing," Han said. "Cos right now I don't know whether to hug you 'cos you've finally _seen_ sense, or hug you 'cos you've got concussion and you're not _making_ sense."

Leia kept her hands over her face, shaking her head, "Han, I know… I _know_ he's Luke—Luke Skywalker—I know that now. Whatever else he is, he _was_ Luke Skywalker. I just… oh I listened to too many people and not the right ones." She pulled her hands away, "Where is he?"

Han was sitting slowly, his manner that of someone who didn't quite know what to do; didn't have a response equal to the moment. He let out a long, slow sigh, and only after stretched seconds did he finally looked up, "Is this a bad time to say this is a bad time to realize this?"

"Where is he?"

"Madine has him," Han said at last, voice quiet.

Leia glanced around the large, well-equipped medi-bay, "Where am I? This isn't the _Zephyr_."

"You're on _Home One_. I told you, you were out a full day."

"Where's Madine?"

"Still on the _Wasp_, with his Special Ops team—and Luke. He's in contact via HoloNet link."

Leia frowned, "Why isn't he with the fleet?"

"Cos no-one could give him that order but you."

Leia threw the blanket back and swung her legs from the bed, ignoring the pounding in her head. "I need a comlink."

A quiet rap on the door stopped her, "Yes?"

Tag Massa entered, looking about as relieved as someone who was clearly on the very edge of holding it together could manage. "Leia, you're awake. Thank…" she paused, pulling herself together. "I'm glad to see you're okay Ma'am. We were worried for a while."

"I'm fine… what's happening with Madine?"

Tag's frown deepened. "We have him on a HoloNet link at the moment; there's a Council meeting about to start to decide what…"

"A Council meeting? Why wasn't I informed?"

"You were out cold, sweetheart," Han said.

"We've been trying to delay it for the last twelve hours," Tag added. "But General Madine and his supporters are pushing to convene and get permission on our course of action regarding the Emperor."

"Permission?"

Tag's voice dropped, "The General is pushing to set up some viral on the HoloNet; he and his supporters want to claim responsibility and…"

"Wait, we'd already agreed our course of action, Madine knows that."

Tag frowned, "What course?"

"A trial—the Emperor's to stand trial."

Tag glanced briefly to Han, "That's _not_ what they're pushing for now, Ma'am."

Leia blanched. "Tag… what if Madine's done the wrong thing; what if we could actually trust the Emperor? I think he was serious about the talks."

Tag stared at Leia for long, uncomfortable seconds… "Ma'am… is there a reason for this change of heart?"

"Reason?" Leia frowned, "Just… everything he said, everything he didn't say. Everything we've talked about in our last three meetings… it just all came together and… I don't know, made _sense_. Tag, I think he's Luke Skywalker, the Luke Skywalker who was here. I think _that's_ the Emperor! I'm not saying that I trust him absolutely, I'm not saying we blindly leap to his aid now, but should we have given talks a chance?"

Tag stared, pausing a long time as if expecting more. When Leia didn't offer it, she tried again. "There's no other reason… nothing more… concrete you're placing your trust in, perhaps?"

"Concrete? Like what—an offer?"

"No. Concrete may not be the right word… more.. basic perhaps, more visceral. A _reason_ to feel that you have some connection with the Emperor?" Leia hesitated, and Tag tried again, "This will be one of the most important meetings in your leadership Ma'am, and I'd hate to go into it without all the available facts. Truths have a habit of coming to the surface when you least expect them to, and the wrong ones coming to light at the wrong time can cause incalculable damage."

"I don't…" Leia rubbed at her forehead, her skull pounding.

Han leaned forward, voice gentler, "Listen, maybe you should sit this meeting out."

"No! I can't. I'm not going to let Madine and his cohorts push something through because I'm not there."

"Just what are you gonna do?" Han asked doubtfully. "Cos believe me sweetheart, if you go in there now and start sayin' we got it all wrong and the Emperor's not only an ex-Rebel pilot, but he's also been tryin' to instigate peace talks with the same guys who tried to blow him up a few years back, they're gonna figure that maybe that blow to your head was a little harder than they thought. Believe me, I know; it's not a popular line round here. You sing his praises and you'll be doing it alone."

"Han, we still have to look at the bigger picture here." Leia said, knowing this wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Yes, I know the Emperor _was_ Luke, but the fact remains that he's also the Emperor, and he gained that position by serving Palpatine."

"You're seriously saying that you still don't believe him?"

"I'm saying… I don't know what I'm saying!" Leia sighed, "I'm saying I'm open to the possibility that things aren't as they seem. But I also have to consider the bigger picture Han… it has to be my first priority here. I _have to_ do what's best for the Alliance. I have to let democracy take its course, even in this. And maybe that's not the course I personally want, but I still have a responsibility to see it through."

"Ma'am," Tag said gravely, "now isn't the time for this. The Council will meet in less than an hour. Madine is doing all he can to pull more support around him on the strength of this, and to push for decisive action; action which is more in line with a military junta than a future democracy."

Leia shook her head, ignoring the pounding there. "There'll be no impromptu executions here. That's not who we are."

"I would seriously advise you to hold to a moderate line until we know the lie of the land. Play for time and stabilize the Council's focus and your own support."

"And Luke?" Han asked. "Madine's rounding up a lynch-mob out there, in case you hadn't noticed."

Tag kept her eyes on Leia. "You go in there and defend the Emperor too strongly and it could just polarize the situation further and push people towards Madine. More than anything else right now, you need to try to have the Emperor brought to _Home one_ and therefore under your own and the Council's influence at the first possible opportunity, by whatever means. You need to gain control of this situation quickly and decisively, or it could very easily spiral from your control. You need to be the voice of reason here, the voice of balance, of integrity. The Council respect you; they'll listen to you."

Leia pursed her lips, forcing her mind to work. "Madine's on rocky ground in pushing for immediate action and he knows it. We're fighting for a fair democracy and he's trying to sidetrack that. He's effectively asking the Council to bypass everything we're fighting for."

Tag nodded, "If you want to push for a trial, then I'll back you of course, and I know over half the Council will do the same with little persuasion. My worry is that if yourself and Madine had agreed to a trial and he's changed his mind, he's now had time to form a case against it."

"Let's find out what he came up with." Leia said, unable to quite keep the edge of apprehension from her voice.

.

.

.

"He'll stand trial…" General Rieekan nodded in agreement with Leia, staring at the grave faces of the other Chiefs of Staff who comprised the Rebel Council, all sat around the wide expanse of the circular table in the War Room. Save for Madine of course; he remained on the _Wasp_, present by HoloNet link.

And right now, Leia was uncomfortably aware of his eyes on her, as they had been for most of this meeting. Still bandaged and sore, she really didn't feel ready for the full ten rounds with the Council in general and Madine in particular.

"What I'm asking is, under _whose_ _law_ will he stand trial, Sir?" Commander Odig, Madine's long-time supporter said, as she shook her head. She turned again to the gloss black droid who stood one step behind her, a protocol designation programmed for legal functions, which just _happened_ to have been brought in by Odig today, Leia reflected wryly.

"El-Dee?" Odig prompted now.

"No law, Imperial or Republic, could enact a subpoena against an acting Head of State, General," The legal droid supplied in authoritative tones. "You _cannot_ serve an indictment or file a judicial summons against an acting Office."

"We could impeach him." Leia said.

"I've already checked this," Odig replied. "There's no legal precedent within the Empire to impeach an acting Head of State, in fact there are clauses in the Supremacy Act which specifically obstruct it. A prosecution is simply not the answer."

This was the line Madine and his supporters were taking, and Leia had to admit it was a clever one; they were claiming that it was quite simply impossible bring the Emperor to trial. Palpatine had made very sure of that.

The droid straightened, supplying an explanation to the Council. "If you impeach the Emperor, in legal terms you are effectively impeaching the Empire itself and only the Empire's own legislative body is authorized to do that. The Empire's main legislative body is Court, and the Supremacy Act created when the Empire was founded and Palpatine took Office as Emperor stated that…" El-Dee paused to indicate that he was reciting law verbatim. "… 'The newly-founded Imperial Court will bear and be responsible for instigating, upholding and enforcing all matters pertaining to the legally recognized Imperial constitution. The jurisdictional autonomy of such Court to create or pass new legislature will remain at all times conditional until enacted by the Emperor in that all law is subject but not limited to being examined, accepted or nullified by said Excellency's personal directive'."

"So we can't impeach him without his permission?" Leia asked dryly.

General Gall, another staunch Madine supporter, took his cue, inadvertently revealing that this was a pre-organized confrontation when he too prompted the droid.

"Oh it's cleverer than that. El-Dee?"

"Theoretically, it _is_ possible to impeach the Emperor within the laws of the constitution. Allowance of such then precludes any motion to dismiss existing law for 'unreasonable constraint'. However, to do so one would need to petition the Imperial Court which is responsible for such laws and somehow persuade them to initiate a legal motion to impeach their own Emperor. They would then need to pass that motion unchallenged in legitimately recognized sittings of Court and the Royal Houses, at which point it would then acknowledged as a lawful legislative ruling. Once approved in theory by Court, that legislative ruling could then be brought to the Emperor's attention in a formal Court session, when they could request of him to pass that ruling into a legal statute which would give them the power to impeach him. Such a statute can only be brought before the Emperor three times for his consideration, though he is no more bound to accept it in any presentation and perfectly entitled to amend or dismiss it all three times. If the ruling were to be approved by the Emperor however, it would become a legally binding statute. Court would then be required to enact that very unlikely statute into law and enter it into the constitution without further challenge, at which point it could be legally cited as law, and used against the Emperor."

"By which point he's presumably died of old age, and all of us with him?" General Cotta said dryly, though despite her tone Leia knew she could trust Cotta to hold a moderate path.

For the first time, Leia realized that she was making conscious mental notes as to whose support she could rely on, the Council separating off into two camps in her mind.

The legal droid continued in those same indomitable tones. "I would also point out the justifiable constitutional argument that even with that law in effect, the legislative right to remove the Emperor from Office still does not exist. The Office of Emperor is, according to the legal Imperial definition laid out in the Supremacy Act, '_subject to_ _no other authority'_. Further, it states that '_No man may prescribe conditions nor make him abide by any oath, nor hold him to account during his reign_'. Therefore to try an Emperor even according to Imperial law, would be exceeding its legitimate mandate as defined by the Supremacy Act. It would effectively be unlawful."

"Then we find another way to bring him to trial." Leia said firmly.

Admiral Ackbar straightened, huge glassy eyes swiveling to Leia. "Republic law perhaps?"

The legal droid tilted his head. "The Old Republic required a vote of No Confidence to remove a serving official from power before it could press legal charges, Admiral. A vote of No Confidence required an independent legislative body—it required a Senate. There is presently no way to lawfully enact a vote of No Confidence because there is no legally recognized Senate in existence; it was disbanded and declared unlawful ten years ago."

Commander Odig shook her head, "Palpatine covered himself too well; there are no exceptions in Imperial law which would enable us to bring a case to his successor, and Republic law has no precedents for absolute rule. Bringing the Emperor to trial is simply not an option. We need to move to a more decisive ruling without it."

"Decisive ruling," Leia repeated. "Would you care to clarify that statement, Commander?"

"I'm saying we have no need of a trial, Ma'am," Odig said definitively. "We all know the truth."

"Which is?" General Cotta said tersely, her voice rising.

"We know his guilt, General."

"That doesn't give us the right to carry out a sentence without a trial, Commander."

Leia mentally chalked Cotta up as a definite moderate, and hated herself for being forced to think in these terms.

"Forgive me for appearing obstructive," Odig said insincerely. "But I'm citing basic legal requirements and entitlements which would be asserted by any authorized legal representative in any court on any planet. I'm trying to stop us from a premature decision to press for an impracticable trial which would be, to all intents and purposes, a waste of time. Either the trial would be dismissed on legal grounds and leave us in an untenable position, or it would go ahead and a guilty verdict would be delivered anyway, enabling us to carry out a sentence that we're already in a position to carry out."

"Thank you for your opinion and your obvious diligence in researching this possibility so thoroughly in the limited time available to you." Leia said pointedly, making everyone aware that they were being railroaded here. "However, the fact remains that we have a moral responsibility to let democracy take its course if we wish to remain true to the ideals of the Alliance we fight for—and its most basic foundation, its founding principle, is that _all_ beings are entitled to justice."

"Even one who has placed himself above the law?" Odig said.

"_All_ beings." Leia repeated.

General Madine's voice was tinny from the heavily-compressed and coded Holo-link, but lost none of its fire. "And justice, in this instance, is surely to expose the Emperor to the very same _justice_ that he has allowed to flourish in his Empire for three decades. Convictions without trial, sentences without verdicts. He seems to feel no such qualms when it comes to Rebel lives."

"I wasn't aware that the present Emperor had held the throne for so long, General."

"He sustained it long before he held it, Ma'am. We all know that."

"And we all disapprove, General. We fight it with our very lives. Do you now mean for us to become that which we know with every ounce of our being is fundamentally wrong?"

"We know the truth Ma'am. We know what is fair, and just. We know what this verdict should undoubtedly be—as does every right-minded being here. In a free galaxy, I would very much like to see the Emperor stand trial… but this is not yet a free galaxy Ma'am, nor will it ever be whilst the Emperor still draws breath. Under such absurd legal constraints, the only logical course of action would be to avoid such a travesty of justice altogether and invoke immediate action."

"By immediate action you mean what, General?"

"We are all well aware of the Emperor's past actions Ma'am. We are in no doubt as to their accuracy and we are well acquainted with the judgment that such charges would undoubtedly confer under Imperial law. All that remains is to enact them."

'_We are in no doubt…we know the truth…the logical course of action…_; clever, divisive words, Leia knew, Madine speaking as if the decision had already been made, as if they were arguing now only how to act upon it. She nodded slowly, "I must congratulate you on your certainty General Madine, on your confidence in your own judgment. However, I can assure you that we do not _all_ know with such cold conviction what should be done. We do not _all_ have so little faith in the legal system, and so much faith in our own superior ability to second-guess it."

"The Emperor is directly responsible for the murder of Mon Mothma. The last time I checked, the charge of murder in Imperial courts carried the death penalty."

Leia felt a heat bloom in the centre of her chest; when she'd said he should be brought to trial, she hadn't even considered the possibility of capital punishment. She had, in her own mind, been placing the _Office of Emperor_ under trial to rule _it_ unjust; not the man himself. Now, suddenly, she was faced with the grim reality, and even without her change of heart, she knew she would have blanched at this.

Though it was common under Imperial law, she'd naturally assumed this trial would be under Old Republic Law, where the death penalty was long-since abolished. There were still instances in the more military-minded Rebel Alliance which carried a death penalty—spies and informers were questioned then executed—but even then only after official hearings and a court-martial.

"The last time I checked, even under Imperial law, the _conviction_ of murder carried the death penalty, General," Leia sidestepped. "Our meeting today is to discuss a method by which a _trial_ could take place, not an execution."

Tag straightened, speaking out. "I have to agree that a trial would seem the most rational, reasonable course here—but I do agree with Commander Odig that a premature push to take this to court would be disastrous. It needs a solid foundation that wouldn't be dismissed within hours from any recognized courtroom. A defendant can only be tried once for any crime; we get this wrong, in terms of due process and even the wording of the arraignment, and the case would be dismissed. We need to prepare. We need to bring the Emperor into a secure environment onboard _Home one_ and make our case."

She was pulling the issues back to what they needed to achieve, Leia realized. Now, having seen Madine's zeal, she understood Tag's fears all too well. They needed Luke here, and they needed everyone committed to the same path—the _right_ path.

"Military law," Commander Rieekan suggested. "Would a court-martial be possible?"

"Military law covers military personnel." General Madine said with a shake of his head.

"The Emperor is head of the military."

"But he's not himself a member." Odig said firmly, always ready to back Madine. "Military law simply doesn't cover him."

"Martial law," Leia tried, eyes to the legal droid. "Martial law enables the military to try civilians. The Caamas Convention allows any military body to try an enemy prisoner of war for war crimes."

"Are we at war and have we declared a state of martial law within the Alliance?" Odig said sanctimoniously. "Do we have an official declaration of such?"

"We're the remaining remnant of the Old Republic, under attack from an unlawful regime," Leia argued. "As the Republic remnant, we're entitled to enact its laws, including invoking martial law."

Leia glanced back to El-Dee, the legal droid… to see it bend forward, speaking in hushed tones to Commander Odig.

Odig nodded once, and the glossy black droid straightened, turning to Leia. "In both Republic and Imperial law, the Emperor is entitled to be tried _lex terrae_, that is, according to the laws in force within the political state of which he is a member, which is Imperial law. According to such law, under the terms of the Supremacy Act the Emperor remains, '_subject to no higher law'_. However, that rule could conceivably be challenged under martial rather than common law, were a state of martial law in effect. The officers of the jury, as Alliance military, would have the power to dismiss such common law clauses in a military trial."

At the corner of her vision, Leia saw Tag Massa tense abruptly and knew something was wrong. Was convinced of it when Tag spoke out… _against_ a trial. "The laws of _lex terrae_ would still apply, meaning the Emperor would remain protected by the Supremacy Act."

"Not necessarily, not under a trial conducted under martial law." Odig repeated—the first tolerant words she had spoken. "It would require no jury other than a group of serving officers convened by this Council. They could also reasonably dismiss the need for the necessary vote of No Confidence under Republic law, as well as concent to detaining the Emperor under _habeas corpus_. To have such clauses confirmed would free the way for a trial."

"You're saying we should twist the law to fit what we need it to be?" Leia asked, uneasy now.

"I'm saying we could set a legal precedent." Odig said firmly.

"By controlling the judge and jury?"

"By giving them the power they need to enact the law in pragmatic terms. The power to dismiss inappropriate legal directives. You want a viable trial Ma'am; this will gain us one."

"A court-martial could be convened to General level for such a trial, by order of a commanding Alliance officer," El-Dee said. "Such a martial trial answers broadly to the laws of the force who holds it, which in this case is deemed to be the constitution of the Old Republic."

"And is capital punishment still in effect?" Madine asked the droid.

"The judicial process of capital punishment had not been pressed in over eight hundred years according to Old Republic law. However, it was not legally abolished in military courts as it was in civilian courts, merely discounted. There are precedents established within the Alliance's present code of practice in reference to spies, though they have no direct relevance to this case."

And there it was again, Leia knew. Madine wasn't just searching for a way to depose an Emperor and so challenge an Empire at it's very heart… he wanted to remove Luke permanently. To dethrone him wasn't enough; he wanted him dead.

"This isn't the way to do it." Tag shook her head, turning to Leia—and from the expression on her face, Leia knew that despite their all agreeing on a trial, something was going horribly wrong. "At best we will be clutching at straws, pulling old, obsolete legal statutes out and dusting them off to prop up an unsupportable claim, and at worst—and certainly before the eyes of the nine tenths of the galaxy—we will be acting outside of the law as they understand it. And believe me Sirs, we _will_ be doing so before the whole galaxy.

Odig turned on her, "If all you can do is quote negatives-"

"I am _trying_ to be the voice of reason," Tag stated through clenched jaw. "This is an unprecedented act; do you really think the Empire will have any reason at all to keep it quiet? We, who claim the moral high ground, we are reduced to kidnap and concocting ad-hock inventions of unconstitutional, unlawful statutes to justify our actions?" Tag turned to Leia, "Give me some time Ma'am. Give me two weeks and I can come up with a viable alternative—a legitimately sound one. This will be nothing short of a drumhead trial, with no legally recognized judge or jury. It would be a shambles before the entire galaxy—is that truly what we wish to become known for?"

Leia grasped the opportunity offered, "I think Commander Massa has a point, General Madine; this is not our sphere of expertise. You so often rightly worry that Council members are forced to make decisions with neither preparation nor proper discussion. In line with that, I'm sure you'll be the first to admit that it would be recklessly premature to push through a major precedent on such terms. Under these circumstances, I'd suggest that the Council allow Commander Massa a two week interval in which to investigate the legalities of this matter further, at which time we'll put it to a vote."

It felt good to use Madine's standard delaying tactic against him for once; even better to watch his face redden because he knew he was cornered. Still, Leia kept her voice level as she pushed for more. "In the meantime, the best course of action would be to have the Emperor moved to a more secure location onboard _Home One_. We can reconvene and discuss this further when we have him safely confined here. Can you give us a timetable on that?"

Madine straightened again, voice steel, "I'm afraid that won't be possible at present, Ma'am."

Rieekan leaned forward, "And why is that?"

"We have specialist, heavily reinforced holding facilities onboard the _Wasp_, a duplicate of a cell built specifically to hold a Sith. I believe our best chance of keeping him confined is to do so here, onboard the _Wasp_."

Leia cut through those empty manners, "Are you telling me you refuse to hand him over to us, General?"

"I'm saying Ma'am, that at this time I believe that it is in all our best interests if the Emperor remains onboard the _Wasp_. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that we still have a high-level spy working from _Home One_, and in view of that fact, I will repeat my intention to keep the Emperor here, under controlled conditions. After all this work, I would hate to deliver him into the hands of an… unknown spy, and so aid an Imperial extraction. I'm sure you feel the same."

The tone of Madine's voice as he said the last caused Leia to frown, uncertain at its inference, though she recovered almost immediately. "What I _feel_, as I'm sure the rest of the Council do, is confident of our ability to manage this situation—and disappointed in your own lack of faith, General Madine."

"It isn't a question of faith Ma'am, it's a question of relative strengths. I have a select, carefully assembled crew of Special Ops, all of whom I trust implicitly, and we have facilities here which have been many months in preparation—facilities which cannot be moved or transplanted, the culmination of a huge investment of time in research and construction, specifically tailored to hold him. Here is where I can guarantee that the Emperor will be secure so here is where he stays. I think it would be a far better expenditure of our time to discuss the questionable validity of any kind of trial. We all know what should be done—what should have been done already."

A sudden fear twisted within Leia. "I want to see him," she said quickly, "speak to him."

"Out of the question." Madine dismissed immediately.

Rieekan half-rose, such was his indignation, "Are you _refusing_ the Commander-in-Chief of the Alliance access, General Madine?"

The compressed image of the holo-link gave little away of the subtleties of Madine's expression, but his pause spoke volumes. "You are, of course, right General Rieekan. I was concerned only for the Chief's safety. She may speak with the prisoner whenever she wishes. I'll have a holo-link set up so that…"

"No, I want to see him in the flesh," Leia said, determined to lock this down now, when Madine was cornered into making a very public concession, or risk losing face before those he still hoped to persuade to his standpoint. "How far away are you now, General?"

"…… We're two days from your location Ma'am."

"Then we can rendezvous tomorrow at.."

"Unfortunately the _Wasp_ is still undergoing repairs. We presently have only one reconstructed sublight engine, which is limiting our ability to make lightspeed."

"Really? Yet I'm told you've managed to limp to lightspeed twice?" Leia realized her opportunity though. "If you're under repair, it may be better for us to bring _Home One_ to your position. If you supply coordinates to…"

"There's no need to remove _Home One_ from what's presently a secure location Ma'am. Give us an extra day for repairs and we'll be mobile, then you can send a smaller craft to rendezvous at pre-arranged co-ordinates in a few days time."

Leia sat back slightly, looking to clarify for the whole Council just exactly what was going on here. "I'd prefer you hand your co-ordinates over to the Council now, General."

Madine was silent long seconds, and again Leia was aware that there was more than the obvious going on here. "I'm quite willing to do that Ma'am—after Commander Massa has handed over the results of the test I requested of her earlier."

Leia glanced to Tag, unsure what was going on, but the Intel Chief shook her head slightly, "Tests? I'm sorry General Madine, I haven't checked my messages in the last several hours—we've been in upheaval here, with the Chief's injuries and the news of your actions. I'll be sure to check my inbox when I return to my office. I hope it wasn't time-sensitive—I would hate to think that some opportunity had been lost to you because of my actions."

Madine remained silent for so long that even Leia began to squirm uncomfortably. When he did speak again, his voice was low and menacing. May I ask exactly what you were doing, Commander Massa?"

Tag met his glare with equal gravity. "My duty, General—as I always have. As I said, I was dealing the issues your actions had incited. I considered it my responsibility to ensure that Chief Organa would be properly safeguarded."

Again, Madine remained silent for a long time, staring Tag down, though she sat with composed cool, shoulders relaxed, face neutral, just slightly expectant. Whatever it was that Madine thought she should have done, Tag was clearly oblivious. Either that, or she was a consummate liar, Leia reflected.

"Then you were at the medi-centre?" Madine pushed.

"Yes, Sir. Making necessary arrangements."

"I see." Madine turned back to Leia, and the distance did nothing to lessen the tautness of his voice. "Ma'am… I require a word private, please."

"I would prefer to speak in front of the Council, General Madine," Leia said firmly. "We have no secrets here."

Madine paused for a long time, eyes locked on Leia… and she knew something was going through his thoughts, some decision being reached, some line of battle being drawn, his eyes knowing, his jaw tight… "I believe your Intel Chief may disagree with you Ma'am."

Leia glanced to Tag, who was frowning, leaning back from the table. She looked to Leia, shaking her head as she shrugged, uncertain. "Security?" Massa hazarded quietly. "The co-ordinates, perhaps?"

Leia turned back to Madine… "Very well, General, with the Council's agreement, I'll continue this meeting in my office."

She glanced about the table and received nods of consent, everyone well aware of Madine's point that there remained a high-level spy onboard _Home One_.

"Then we'll call this meeting adjourned for now, gentlemen, and schedule another take place after I've spoken with the Emperor."

.

.

.

Han was pacing in Leia's office, waiting for the Council meeting to finish, trying to be calm and patient in a situation that, as far as he was concerned, needed a bit less calm and a bit more action, when the 'call waiting' light lit on Leia's desk. He was just contemplating answering it and telling whoever it was that seemed to feel the need to talk to her _this_ time to take a hike out an airlock, when the door finally opened and Leia entered, still pale from her injuries and cradling her arm, but with eyes as sharp as all hell.

She turned immediately to Tag Massa as the door closed behind them, the Intel Chief looking as put out as Leia was—in fact Han was getting nervous just looking at them.

"What? What is it?" Leia said quickly.

"If you let the trial go ahead under martial law, you may well be abdicating any official control of the situation," Massa replied tightly.

"Wait, what happened?" Han asked tightly, wanting to be up speed.

Leia glanced to him then to the small light which was flashing on the desk console, then back to Massa. "Why—quickly?"

"We represent the remnants of the Old Republic. Ours has always essentially been a political organization forced into a military stance. You're in fact very close to the Emperor in that you are a political leader of a largely military party. A trial under martial law requires _only_ military personnel."

The Intel Chief hesitated, and Han took his chance, "What happened?"

Massa glanced momentarily to Han before continuing, her eyes back on Leia. "You do this and you'd essentially be passing all control of the Emperor and the trial—including the choice of a _military-only_ jury—over to the military. And whilst I have great faith in General Rieekan and Admiral Ackbar there is, as you know, a more… radical element who support Madine and may seek to exclude yourself and any other moderates entirely if the trial goes forward on this basis—and it could well work."

"Would _someone_ tell me what… wait, I got that." Han felt his jaw grind, not surprised at this little development; it was hardly news. "So he's tryin' to freeze us out?"

Massa turned to him, "I'm not saying that it would happen, Commander. I'm simply saying that it would be judicious to avoid a situation developing where it could be possible. A trial under martial law would effectively remove _all_ non-military individuals within the Council from the decision-making process—and therefore the majority which Chief Organa presently holds. It would create a hung military Council of equal parts moderates and…"

"Madine's happy-lackey gun-toters." Han finished for her, since Massa clearly didn't know how to say it politely.

Leia looked to Han, the strain in her face obvious. "They were… they're pushing to find out if a death penalty could be made to stick."

Massa nodded grimly, "With an all-military tribunal cherry-picked by Madine, they probably could, even citing Republic laws."

"Son of a skeeg," Han bit out, turning to Leia, both arms out, palms up. "Can I punch him _now?"_

Leia sat heavily back onto her chair. "Yes, you actually can."

"Finally!"

"This may not be what it seems," Massa said. "Madine may have no intention of trying to subvert the trial, he may simply be trying to push for a trial on any terms possible, knowing this is the only viable path."

"Yeah right, 'cos I do believe the guy has a heart of gold." Han said, dryly.

"We need to get control of the Emperor," Tag underlined. "We need to get him away from Madine and in our possession as quickly as possible."

The small light on Leia's console was still flashing blue, indicating a call waiting, and Han suddenly realized who it was.

Leia frowned, looking back from the console to Massa. "Madine's not going to hand him over if he knows he could use this to force me to declare martial law."

"He doesn't _know_ how much the Emperor means to you Ma'am. He's playing power games, that's all."

"So what, you're saying call his bluff?"

"No, uh-huh." Han said decisively, shaking his head as he stepped forward. "I've played a lot of sabacc at a lot of tables and let me tell you, I know the kinda guy you _don't_ try to browbeat. Some folks'll call you just because they can't stand to back down."

Leia sighed, eyes to the flashing light. "Well let's see what he wants first, shall we? Then we can decide how not to give him it."

.

She reached forward and keyed the activation, Han and Massa rapidly stepping back from the pickup lens's field of view. A small Holo-image burst into life in a rift of static over Leia's desk before it coalesced into Madine's tight-jawed face, and Han felt his hands ball to fists.

"General Madine," Leia said, nodding. "In all the commotion, I don't think I've congratulated you yet on your successful mission."

"Thank you Ma'am, although I consider your words a tad premature," Madine said coolly. "I won't consider this particular mission complete until I have the outcome I intended for it."

Leia tipped her head, "On behalf of yourself, Sir, or the Alliance?"

"I like to think our interests are one and the same Ma'am… though I find myself wondering about yours."

"I've made the Alliance my life's work, General. I think perhaps you misunderstand my position—my intention here is to see justice done."

"As is mine, Ma'am. To that end, I'd advise you to step down and hand this matter over to the military, where it belongs."

Watching from the far side of the room, Han felt his jaw tighten; he had to hand it to Madine; the guy sure didn't beat about the bush.

Leia straightened to her most regal. "And why would I do that, General?"

"I would have thought that your conflict of interest in this matter would be obvious Ma'am… or have you never felt any such conflict? Perhaps it has always been clear, from the beginning… if not particularly well known."

Han frowned; how the hell did Madine know about Leia's admission of split loyalties—she'd only told Han a few hours before. Had he tapped the room onboard the _Wasp_ the last time Leia and Luke met? Unseen, he shook his head at his own question; Leia always carried the _sweeper_ that Han had given her into those meetings—the small, credit-sized counter-surveillance device would emit a whistle if any bugging or surveillance gear was near—plus there'd been a complete com blackout at the time, both parties probably carrying scramblers. The thought occurred that maybe Madine knew somehow that it'd been Leia who had dropped the _Wasp's_ shields? Uncertain, he glanced momentarily to Massa… and paused; the eternally unflappable Intel Chief was stood tensely against the opposite wall to Han, her arms wrapped tight about her, her expression somewhere between dread, rapt attention and mounting alarm as Madine continued to speak.

"Though apparently it _was_ known by Commander Massa. I must congratulate her on her performance today by the way… and the speed with which she removed the evidence. You know, the one thing I didn't see coming was Tag's little betrayal."

Already stood well back beyond mic range, Massa backstepped further to lift her own comlink to her mouth, speaking urgently but quietly, "Lieutenant Lowan; this is Massa. Lock down all access to Chief Organa's medical files right now, on my command. In fact, lock down the whole medical and Intel systems. No access—even the Council. And no-one goes into or leaves the medi-bays… or General Madine's office. Do it quietly and do it now, then comm me back."

Han was starting to get that real cold feeling in the bottom of his gut, though to her credit Leia didn't even flinch, shaking her head slowly, voice dismissive.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Madine wasn't impressed. "Really? Because I would very much hate to be the one who was forced to clarify for the Council just exactly what I'm talking about… in the name of _my own_ intentions to ensure that true justice is done."

"Wh.." Leia glanced up through the holo as Han too turned back to where Tag Massa was turning back, making wild gestures to cut the sound.

Leia reached out and killed the pick-up mic as Tag stepped forward, agitation raising her voice to near-panic. "He knows… how does he know?!"

Han frowned, straightening, that cold feeling travelling up his spine. "Wait a minute, what the hell's going on?"

Madine continued, unaware of what was happening outside of the range of the HoloNet link now that the mic was off. "I would hate for this situation to escalate further… and I very much doubt you'd like me to take this to the Council."

Leia flicked the mic on. "Are you _threatening_ me General?"

"Let's just say I've been considering my options in the last few minutes… as I'd advise you to consider yours very carefully in the next few."

"On what grounds exactly, General?"

"Give me some credit Ma'am, despite Commander Massa's best efforts. I'm asking the genetic sister of the Emperor to step back—or do you think me a fool?"

For long seconds Leia stared at the holo, trying to figure out who Madine was even speaking about… then it slowly dawned on her, as it did on Han. She glanced up to him in the same moment as he looked to her, her delicate face a mixture of bewildered confusion and out-and-out disbelief. In that moment, Han had no idea what expression held his own features.

Leia looked back to the holo, "Don't be absurd!"

"What strikes me as absurd, Ma'am, is the fact that the woman who leads the rebellion against the Empire is, in actual fact, the Emperor's genetic sister… and I very much believe that it will strike others the same way."

It was the seriousness with which Tag Massa was treating this outrageous claim that was unsettling Han; without her reaction, he would have probably dismissed this outright—laughed at it even—and he knew Leia was thinking the self same thing, the surety slowly falling from her face as she stared at the Intel Chief, who was signalling to cut the connection now.

"I… I need a minute…" Leia said, breathless, flustered, eyes skipping between Tag and the holo of Madine.

The General clearly wasn't moved. "You have one minute. Leave the line on hold."

.

Han was speaking before the holo-image had even darkened to _pause_—shouting, almost. "Will _someone_ tell me what the hell is going on?!"

Massa was still shaking her head, thinking aloud, "He can't know… how did he find out?" Her eyes were on Leia, "Who else knows… anyone, ever? Was it ever recorded anywhere? Alderaan, here? Did Chief Mothma know?"

Leia half-rose, "What is he talking about, why is he even saying this?"

Massa stopped dead, "You…" she trailed to silence, unsure what to say as Leia sat again heavily. "You didn't… Ma'am, Madine asked me to do the test when you were in the medi-centre—your relationship to the Emperor… you didn't know?"

"It's wrong," Leia was shaking her head in denial, words almost lost beneath her breathless confusion. "The test is wrong."

"No, Ma'am. I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

"It's _wrong_."

"I had it checked and verified."

Han too was shaking his head, finally finding his own voice. "Wait a minute… Leia and Luke?"

Massa glanced to Han then back to Leia, and when she didn't answer, Massa finally nodded, "They're siblings—twins, probably."

"Leia and _Luke_?" Han looked to Leia and she shook her head, words failing her.

He'd known she was adopted of course, though even that was a closely-kept secret. The sole heir to the Alderaanian Royal House had access to their hidden assets, all of which had been plowed into the Alliance, and as that high-profile survivor, she was a cause to rally round. Everyone knew who princess Leia was, everyone… _everyone_.

"I want to see those tests." Leia was standing again, rallying like the indomitable princess she'd always been, "right now."

"Ma'am, I'd suggest we wait a short time; Madine has supporters here. To go directly to—"

"That's what he was talking to you about in the Council meeting, isn't it?" Leia realized, cutting across Massa.

"General Madine contacted me whilst you were still unconscious and asked me to retrieve the stored genetic samples of the Emperor to make the test. When I had the results…" Massa paused, uncomfortable. "I had to make a difficult decision under pressing circumstances. That decision, given the rifts already present in the Alliance Council, was to remove all evidence pointing to any link between yourself and the Emperor. If I was in error then I apologize, but given the instability of the present situation within the leadership, I don't think I was. With respect Ma'am, this fact would tear us apart; right now, we _could not_ survive its disclosure."

"You destroyed everything? " Leia asked, dismayed. "So now I have nothing; no evidence, no proof, nothing."

"I didn't destroy anything ma'am. I removed it and reclassified all the information and samples to another file. Everything is still stored under that name. Everything exists; the samples, the tests, everything."

"I want to see it," Leia repeated. "All of it."

"Of course."

"Wait a minute," Han said slowly. "So Madine wants Leia to back down because of who he claims she is."

"Who she _actually is_." Tag corrected.

"… Is it true?" Despite everything, he couldn't help but ask one more time.

Massa nodded slowly, "Yes… yes it is."

Han looked her in the eye as she said it... then thought for long seconds, slowly digesting this astounding fact and finally coming up with the only reaction he could possibly think of; "Hn."

"That's _it_?" Leia asked incredulously. "Just, _hn_?!"

Han stepped forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead, "Sweetheart, you are one of a kind. _Nothin'_ about you surprises me any more. Or Madine, but in a whole different way."

"Why not just come out and say it today in the Council meeting," Leia asked Massa. "Go public and force another DNA test?"

"Yeah, not that I'm the suspicious type, but we're talkin' about Madine here. If he knows about Leia, why isn't he…" Han slowed to silence, considering.

Massa shrugged, "He may have expected my corroboration. When he didn't get it, he may have felt forced to—"

"Wait a minute, we're not thinkin' like Madine here!" Han pursed his lips in dawning understanding as he turned to Leia. "He now has somethin' on the only person who's standing in his path with this trial thing, the only one with enough power to hold it off. He's gonna use it. He actually thinks he can use it to force you to do what he wants!"

Massa considered, her brow knitting to tight worry lines as she nodded. "You may be right. He's a strategist and he now has the most valuable commodity in the galaxy; information. It would make sense for a man like him to seek to use this to further his own larger plan. If he can get you to agree to a trial under martial law, then he knows others will follow. It _would_ go through."

Han nodded, "Clearly he thinks you knew. And if he thinks you knew then he's gonna think you've been withholding it—and if he thinks you've been withholding it, then he's gonna think he can control you with it."

Leia pursed her lips in determination, "Well then he's wrong."

Massa stepped forward, voice strained, "Ma'am, you let this go public right now, in the middle of this crisis, and not only will it remove you from _any_ influence over the Emperor's circumstances, but it may well rip the Alliance apart."

"I'm not going to be blackmailed."

"I'm not saying that Ma'am."

"Well then what _are_ you suggesting?"

"Like you said before," Han stated firmly, "let's find out what he wants first. Then we decide how not to give it to him."

.

Leia took long seconds to compose herself before she reached out and reactivated the holo-link, Madine's expression having lost none of its self-satisfied conceit as the image flickered into life. Despite his calm before Leia, the desire Han felt to somehow reach through that holo-link and knock the high and mighty look clean off the General's smug face was overwhelming.

Always the diplomat, Leia's own aversion barely sounded as she spoke, "You understand General; I didn't know of this fact until today."

Madine didn't even acknowledge Leia's words. "Here's the way this is going to go; you're going to stop making noise about Skywalker… or I'm going to start making noise about Skywalker's sister."

"Whether I object or not, everyone in that Council knows you're still attempting to sideline basic human rights according to—"

"I'm not finished yet," Madine cut in. "When that vote comes around in two weeks' time, I want confirmation from the Council that that a trial under martial law will go ahead. Otherwise I _will_ make this public."

"I can't guarantee that." Leia said.

Madine wasn't budging. "You have two weeks to bring your people into line, Ma'am."

Leia was an experienced enough negotiator to automatically play for time, however outlandish the demands. "That's not long enough. I can't turn the Council in two weeks."

"Then you shouldn't have set the vote at that time, should you? Two weeks, then I want the outcome of that ballot to be that all control of this situation be turned over to the military where it belongs and myself in particular."

"I still want to see him." Leia held her ground as Madine's eyes narrowed. "You've already agreed to let me see him before open Council—are you going to retract that?"

"You want to see him? Then back off. _Home One_ stays right there, you don't press for the position of the _Wasp_ again in Council, you back my decision to keep the Emperor here, and I might—I just might—let one small ship rendezvous with us for a limited length of time, under my terms and conditions. But you can tell your Corellian friend—I'm sure he's skulking around there somewhere—that he isn't invited."

Han tensed against the provocation though he stayed where he was; wouldn't give Madine the satisfaction of a reaction. Still, he _really_ should'a punched Madine last time he'd had the chance.

"I'll need to bring security with me." Leia said firmly.

"You can bring who I tell you to bring." Madine said tartly. "But don't think for one minute that you're taking the Emperor back with you. I'll shoot him myself before I'll let you do that—at any point. Let's just be clear on that now."

"We're clear." Leia said calmly as Han ground his teeth, eyes narrowing.

Madine nodded once; "Good. Meanwhile, you have a lot of work to do, _Chief_. I want that vote."

"How am I supposed to convince them?"

Madine smiled thinly, "Don't worry Ma'am; I'm sure I'll have plenty of evidence to present to the next Council meeting which will indicate that a trial would move smoothly to the right verdict—maybe even a full confession. I intend to have a few… conversations with the Emperor over the coming weeks, and I'm expecting him to be compliant… eventually."

Leia tensed, "Madine…"

"Concerned for the prisoner's welfare? How touching—and how very unsurprising whose cause you choose to defend."

Leia held to her guns. "I didn't know about any of this."

"Really?" Madine sneered. "And you were having secret meetings with the Emperor for what reason?"

"I told you, they were a prelude to peace talks. He came to me—we were discussing a ceasefire."

"Of course you were. One in which everything Mothma fought to build, you'd sign away to the Emperor."

"No, I would have brought it to the Council," Leia ground out, her patience wearing thin. "You know that—or why would I have admitted the meetings to you?"

"Because you were cornered and thought you could control it. And you almost did… you almost got that Imperial frigate there in time." He paused, leaning forward slightly, "In fact, where _were_ you stood on the bridge when the _Wasp's_ shields came down?"

Leia leaned back slightly, eyes widening, and Han cursed silently; wanted to lunge forward and cut the line before it got any worse. As it turned out, Madine did it for him.

"You want to bring something to Council, Ma'am? Then make it your support for the trial under martial law. And you have two weeks to ensure it."

"Madine…" Leia started, but the General was already leaning forward to cut the channel, the room doused into darkness as the holo faded to static.

.

"Two weeks isn't much time," Massa said, into the silence.

"Two weeks is all we have…" Leia paused, head in her hands; "…in two weeks, this'll be over—one way or another."

Han stared, unsettled by the portentous tone of her quiet voice, needing long seconds to pull himself together… but he did so; forced everyone to do the same as he turned to Massa. "Okay, I have a question; if _you_ didn't tell him, then how the hell does Madine know all this?"

Tag frowned, "I'm assuming that he got the information from the Emperor."

"Already? No, Luke wouldn't crack, not already—Madine'll get nothing from him for a good long while. And why are you assuming he even knows?"

Tag shook her head. "I certainly didn't pass any details on to General Madine."

"We already figured that, but he got them somehow… so how? Could he have asked Odig or Gall to retrieve the information from the medi-centre?"

Massa frowned, "I don't think so… it's possible that the General contacted the medi-centre directly during the time that I was removing the chips to the secure Intel store and reclassifying them by name—I wanted to do it immediately. Then I had the blood samples stored and reclassified, and wiped the Two-OneBee's memory. Between removing any and all other evidence and returning to wipe the Two-OneBee's memory was a gap of maybe… less than thirty minutes. The General had asked me to contact him as soon as possible, because the _Wasp_ was jumping to lightspeed inside the hour. When I didn't, he could have contacted the medi-centre to get the information directly before he jumped; he would have the necessary clearance."

"So would he have been able to transfer any of the relevant files in that time?" Han asked.

"No, definitely not. If he missed me when he re-contacted the medi-centre it was because I was already removing the physical samples, and the data and test results were isolated off the network."

Han was nodding slowly, everything was becoming clear. "So if he spoke to the medi-droid he _knew_… but he had no proof."

Massa smiled in understanding, "Which is why he spoke to Chief Organa in private. Why this isn't out already."

Han was nodding, the facts becoming clearer now. "All he had was the fact that a droid told him that an unknown sample provided by someone who's turned out to be loyal to Leia matched a sample taken from Leia that day. In fact, he had no idea whether either or both were genuine. Clearly you didn't get back him when he expected you to, then whatever you said in the Council meeting clarified just exactly where your loyalties were… so he was figuring he was on rocky ground."

Massa nodded, eyes to Leia, "That's why he didn't come out with it in the Council Meeting—when I denied any knowledge of our earlier conversation he realized I'd back you up."

Han nodded, unable to keep the edge of a lopsided grin from his mouth, "He started panicking that it might be a set-up. You had the evidence, he had zilch. Odig and Gall are probably flappin' round like spooked mynocks right now trying to trace where you hid it."

"So he was out on a limb," Leia realized. "But he's not anymore. He knows that now, why not just go public anyway?"

"But at the time that was one hell of a risk, sweetheart," Han said. "That's probably what held him back. He had to wait and like he said, he got to thinkin' whilst he was waitin'. Before he knew for sure, he couldn't just stand up and start accusing the leader of the Rebel Alliance of being… well, you know."

For a brief second Leia scowled, and Han knew that she was burning to say, _'Just say it!'_, but if he'd done so, he knew she would have been equally offended; he had no problem at all with her being Luke's sister… in fact he kinda liked it, the more he thought about it. Leia though… a week ago, she'd been prepared to help capture Luke and to put him on trial; just a few days ago the kid had upturned all her previous opinions somehow, and then today… this was a hell of a lot to assimilate this quickly.

But as ever, she was taking it on the chin, already thinking round it.

"And are we sure?" Leia turned again to Massa. "Can you _guarantee_ that those samples were accurate?"

"The Two-OneBee droid that did the test took the sample from you itself, and I had the test done twice, once with the stored blood sample from the secure medical base and once with a sample from the Intel base. The Intel sample was stored under a false ID. I broke both anti-tamper seals myself to have the samples tested."

Leia turned from Tag to Han. "I need to speak to Luke."

"Yeah, you and me both, doll." Han tipped his head. "You take the file in the cake and I'll take the blaster made entirely of flimsiplast."

"I'm going to that meeting." Leia said firmly. "I'm speaking to him onboard the _Wasp_."

Massa was quick to step in, "In light of all this, I'd seriously advise you not to go. The _Wasp_ should be regarded as under Madine's control and you're one of the Emperor's few allies."

"It may be under Madine's control, but he's still an Alliance General and the crew he has there are still Alliance soldiers."

"Yeah, Alliance soldiers hand-picked for this mission because Madine knows he can trust 'em implicitly." Han added pointedly. "They're gonna be hard-liners and they may well see you as being the wrong side of that line."

Leia frowned, and he knew it was because once again, they were being forced to think of the Alliance she'd fought so hard to hold together as two separate camps here; those who'd back Leia and those who'd back Madine. Not that the fact was even gonna slow her down, Han knew; she'd always been the kinda fireball who flared when the heat got turned up. It was one of the reasons he loved her—that and of course, the galaxy-class package it came wrapped in.

"Your advice is noted." Leia said. "I'm going anyway. Two days time is the opportunity I have and two days time is the opportunity I'm taking."

Massa pursed her lips, and for long seconds Han thought that she'd push her objection… but she surprised him by nodding slowly, clearly running the numbers in her mind. "If you need to speak to him about this, then we should make arrangements. I want to ensure that I can get you safely in and out of that ship without it seeming too obvious to the rest of the Council what we're actually dealing with. And I need to go and ensure that Madine's supporters aren't running amok on _Home One_ right now looking for those samples—and that even if they are, that they don't know why."

Han shook his head, "I'm bettin' that Madine's figuring he has some serious leverage to back Leia into a corner right now. He's not gonna share that with anyone and risk losin' control of it, not yet. As long as we play along, he'll keep it to himself."

"For two weeks." Leia said grimly.

Han paused, tilting his head with exaggerated casualness, "You know, I'm just gonna put this out there the once, 'cos I can't help but think that it occurs to me that… well… what if someone kinda.. shot him?"

Massa glanced to Leia, and Han got the distinct impression that the Intel Chief wouldn't have put too much of a fight up if Leia had okayed it… but of course, he'd known her answer before Leia spoke out.

"Don't even _think_ about it, Solo." Leia said emphatically. "That's not how I deal with my problems."

"Just, ya know, a suggestion," Han said contritely. "Worth a try."

Massa pursed her lips, glancing to her comlink as it sounded a tone. "That's Lieutenant Lowan. If you'll excuse me Ma'am, I need to go and deal with… all this. Come to my office when you're ready to see the results—I'd prefer to keep them limited to that one off-system copy for security."

Leia nodded, "Of course, thank you Tag… for everything."

The Intel Chief nodded once with her usual unassuming manner before turning to leave.

.

Leia remained silent as the door closed, still looking to make some kind of sense of all this, Han knew.

"I gotta say, you're takin' this so much better'n I'd've ever thought. I'm impressed."

Leia looked to him wryly as he stepped forward, wrapping one arm around her in proud reassurance. "What did you expect?"

"I dunno really…" Han shrugged, "This is pretty much off the map, even for me."

Leia glanced down, seeming surprised at her own ease as she leaned into his support, "I think… I think maybe if I'd just found out that I was _the Emperor's_… sibling…. maybe it'd be different. But… but I'm not—I know that now. I'm _Luke's_ sister… I'm Luke Skywalker's sister…"

Han nodded, knowing just what she meant, "And that's alright, huh?"

Leia too nodded, slowly and with great deliberation, "That's alright."

Han frowned, the enormity of this revelation only now beginning to percolate, even for him. "Wait a minute, if you're his sister…" he hesitated, "why can't you do the stuff he can do?"

Leia paused, examining thoughts and memories; the strange dreams which had always seemed so real in the moment; the nightmares of people she knew, lost within days of her having them. The wolf… that silent, enduring wolf, always standing in her shadow and never once baring its teeth to her. The _sense_ of Luke when he was close in the meetings; of his intent so often completely contradicting his words and actions—of _knowing_ which to trust.

"I think…" she hesitated again, uneasy at saying it out loud but realising now with absolute conviction; "I think I can."

.

.

.

Four hours earlier, before Leia had even woken, Tag Massa had stood alone in the empty medi-centre, staring at the small vial in her hands, the truth still ringing in her ears and buzzing through her thoughts, too vast to process.

She'd stood like this for minutes already… precious minutes in which she needed to act—but she had no idea of how, just staring at the vial containing the stasis-stored blood sample. Something so very small, so incredibly fragile, so easy to destroy… and yet so exceedingly, absurdly dangerous. And she held it in the palm of her hand.

To let it go public or to sit on it—and what in Sith had the Emperor intended in allowing this fact to fester as a possibility without himself acting? Had he planned to have it go public at a later point? To give Organa the means to check and verify the fact if he threatened her with the same? Something to control her, something to unsettle her, something to persuade her, what? If he had left the sample here he would surely have known that there was a chance that Organa's DNA and his own could be compared, so perhaps it was part of a greater plan to destabilize the Alliance further? If so, Madine's stumbling across it now had in all probability _not_ been part of that plan.

Or perhaps the Emperor simply wasn't aware that the sample was here? But then it was standard practice to maintain such DNA and blood samples as part of the larger medical records system, and whilst records of dead pilots were routinely discarded, the record of a pilot who had since been accused of spying and closely linked to Palpatine would obviously be kept, so he _must_ have known it was stored; he would never overlook such a thing.

So what now? Let Madine's discovery run its course, or bury it; remove any and all evidence? As Intel Chief, Massa had the knowledge of how to hide her tracks, remove all verifiable data in order to stabilize the Alliance at what had suddenly become a crucially volatile time. Or should she take it to Organa and watch her reaction; see if it changed her opinion, her actions, even slightly?

Remove it or acknowledge it—and which would help or hinder whom?

So she'd simply stood, aware of the fact that she was holding the fate of the Alliance in her hands… the fate of the freedom she'd dedicated her career—her life—towards achieving. Aware that any misstep, any loss of focus now could have appalling consequences…

Her remit of course, had always been to protect and guide Leia Organa and stabilize the more moderate Alliance factions which supported her as the Alliance itself divided and fragmented, but now, with this one unprecedented fact, the stability of the Alliance had become tied in to far greater issues and loyalties.

Under unanticipated circumstances, the best thing to do right now was to maintain the status-quo; try to limit Madine's reactions, contain any further access to the information as it stood, and react to any and all responses and consequences as necessary. To try to influence results without yet knowing the larger picture would be recklessly hasty.

Yes; failing any other orders to the contrary, she decided, replacing the small vial back into stasis under a randomly-chosen name, she would continue to follow her remit to the letter.

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	35. Chapter 35

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Luke lay alone in the darkness… truly alone, for the first time that he could remember; no Force, no contact, no familiar thrum of the galaxy about him, its aching scale and ceaseless, bass undertone of resonant power eerily silent. Nothing but the small, insular thoughts within his own head, adrift in a barren, isolating stillness. He had wished so often that the flame within him that Ben Kenobi had kindled and Palpatine had set ablaze could be doused forever… now it was gone, yet there was no relief, no reprieve. All that he felt was totally, utterly alone…

He lay in silence on the hard bed, little more than canvas stretched across a heavy welded frame, chained by one ankle to the bulky framework as he stared into the cold, dense darkness, trying to fathom whether it was a hardship or a blessing that they left the cell unlit.

Hours ground on alone in the impenetrable, oppressive silence of his all-too-familiar prison, and left with nothing but his own thoughts was opening the floodgate to so many things Luke had locked away, conjuring the writhing mass of black memories he'd tried so hard to forget. Of Palpatine, of that cell, of endless days merging into weeks and then into months, locked away from everything real and forced to deal with a bleak, brutal existence which filled every waking hour and pierced a broken, restless, drugged-induced numbness with hunger and thirst and constant, harrowing pain.

Words and threats and derision lit those memories with a familiar, grating voice filled with dissolute menace, cold bone-thin fingers touching scorched, scalded scars, promises whispered between yellowed teeth and bloodless lips, burning across fevered skin. _"As soon as you defy me, I will deliver retribution. It is my forte, my fascination, my passion… an indulgence which I allow myself… you will obey, or I will make you obey…"_

It was all he could think, all he could see, all he could hear in the darkness, old memories mixing with this new reality and pervading every thought, waking or sleeping, until Luke took to pacing barefoot the small space before the metal bunk he was chained to, the only part of the freezing cell that he could reach.

He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he had to find a way through this, find a way to get past it and get his brain working again, but the memories of that hopelessness came constantly to him, crowding out any other consideration, leaving him distracted and disoriented, thoughts in turmoil, that voice always whispering, echoing through the darkness,

"_What do you fear, Jedi? What do you see in the dark when your demons come?"_

The sound of his own movement in the darkness, the way the curve of the walls in the circular cell deadened and muffled the dragging chain about his bare ankle, the dull, distorted huff of his breath in the dense, unremitting darkness… memories and moments constantly burst forth, triggered by the familiarity of the curved-ceiling cell, Palpatine, so clear in Luke's thoughts that he could have been walking beside him now, stood so close that Luke could hear his breath as he drew it to speak, grinning that death's-head grin, trembling fingers reaching out to touch that which he so adored and envied, curved, splintered nails catching on open wounds; _"We are the same, you and I… didn't I always tell you we were… We are the same… it runs in your blood…."_

Mara… she had no idea; no idea.

"_The curse of your line… it runs in your blood."_

_._

Eventually, when he was too tired to pace any further, he'd laid again on the canvas bunk, knowing they'd wait until he slept before they came; that was what you did, that was how this worked.

A sharp, stabbing pain as he laid down had brought his hand to the base of his skull—and a scar there, just to one side of his spine, the skin still swollen about it. So now he lay on his side facing the wall in silence, eyes closed as if in sleep, waiting… because anything was better than this; anything was better than the memories that this cell could conjure.

Waiting… running through the facts as he knew them in his mind and cursing his own decision to remain in the meeting with Leia, knowing something was wrong.

He remembered again her tightly-clasped hands; her initial questions; '_Can you read my thoughts—specific thoughts?_'.

He'd known already that something was wrong but let it pass. Let it pass because he needed this meeting to work; because he'd already decided that this would be the last time. Either they made some kind of breakthrough or he abandoned this plan and went on to his backup, instead using the meeting and the seeds he'd long since sown to rip the Alliance apart. So he'd stayed—even though he _knew_ something had shifted, he'd stayed. Because he'd _wanted_ it to work. Wanted it enough that he'd ignored every sign. Luke let out a low laugh at his own willful blindness; hindsight was a scornful teacher.

His thoughts went back to the ysalamiri which were isolating him from the Force right now. He knew of their existence from Palpatine of course, though to his knowledge very few others did. And yet somehow Madine knew enough to use them in Luke's capture; knew enough to have them here now—and he'd got that knowledge from somewhere.

"_I don't know'" _Leia had hissed in her hasty warning, _"I don't know how they're doing it."_

Had it been Reece perhaps, who'd handed that information over? Handed over not only the opportunity to get to Luke, but the way to confine him, the drugs to control him and the one method which could isolate and limit him. Handed them over because he wanted to remove an Emperor whom he believed too lenient… handed them over to a man who would use them because he thought the new Emperor not nearly lenient enough.

That held an empty ring of dry amusement to it in more ways than one; trapped between a rock and a hard place, once for being underly and overly lenient depending on who he listened to, and trapped all over again because Luke had _known_ Reece was the traitor—had known for a long time—yet he'd let it stand rather than risk losing Nathan as well, one of his last truly trusted friends, wanting to wait until Reece did something significant to incriminate himself.

He laughed all over again at hindsight; be careful what you wished for.

.

He was still laid on his side when the ear-popping hiss of the hermetic seal made him turn, bracing as the double doors opened with a staggered grind, making him flinch in the sudden flaring glare of bright lights.

Two soldiers entered, their guns already trained—new faces; never keep the same men on a prisoner, never let anyone get to know a prisoner or establish any habits he can use; Madine had always been good. Another two entered carrying a small, heavy metal table. Behind them, dragging a chair noisily over the roughcast floor, was Madine. Luke frowned, uncertain what was going on.

The chair was half-thrown to the centre of the room as the first two guards hauled Luke upright, freeing his tie from the bunkframe and dragging him over to the chair, forcing him down unnecessarily as he sat anyway, the heavy table dragged before him. The short bar which linked his wrist binders was tethered to a hook in the centre of the table before they walked away without once meeting Luke's eye.

Released, still blinking against the light, Luke looked about him. Another two guards had entered before the door had closed, this time stopping at the far side of the cell to angle the leg-struts of a basic three-lens holo-recorder and point it towards him. Ignored by all, Luke watched the purposeful flurry of activity, wondering if this was the first interrogation, what they would even ask.

Finally Madine came forward, pausing only to throw an autoreader onto the table.

"Read that aloud," he said simply, already turning away.

Frowning, uncertain, Luke stretched forward, the tips of his fingers just reaching the autoreader, so that he was able to fumble and drag it awkwardly back across the table to look at the screen.

'_I make this statement to confess to the fact that I have in the past voluntarily and willingly worked to pass sensitive military information between opposing forces, thus knowingly committing…'_

Luke slid the autoreader away, "Not a chance."

Madine turned from the man who was setting up a holo-recorder and stalked back to the table, picking up the autoreader in a wide sweep and catching Luke full across the face with it, knocking his head to the side so hard that he saw stars.

"It wasn't a request," he hissed, banging the 'reader back down.

Luke licked at the inside of his cheek, aware that he'd bitten into it—but still he held his ground. "I say that and I'm admitting to espionage." Did Madine really think he was that stupid; it held the same penalty in the Alliance or the Empire; death.

"Let me make this very easy for you," Madine said, pulling the sidearm from its holster and slamming it down on the table beyond Luke's limited reach, his hand remaining on the stock, finger resting against the trigger. He picked up the autoreader and smacked it heavily onto the table close to Luke again, and as Luke glanced down to it, Madine lifted the blaster and put it to Luke's head–

With a grating _clack_, the safety released, the muzzle of Madine's blaster pressing hard against the bone of Luke's skull.

Abruptly Luke had an intense flashback—to the Imperial Palace long ago, when Palpatine was still alive; to standing with an uneasy Mara on the open balcony of his quarters, still recovering from the assassination attempt, "_Mara, I just survived a four-click explosion at point-blank range—how likely do you think it is that one blaster shot is gonna take me down?"_

"Read it." Madine growled.

Luke clenched his jaw, muscles tensing… but he didn't look back to the autoreader.

Madine pressed forward, the blaster trembling just slightly, a subtle quiver against Luke's skull. "Personally, I'd just as soon pull the trigger right now, but they want to do this the right way, they want you to stand trial—and if that's the case, I need that confession… so you're gonna give me it."

"I don't think so."

The General raised his eyebrows, amused. "You assume I care how I get it."

Luke nodded slightly, the hard muzzle of the gun moving with him. "See, I wondered how long it'd take you to drop Alliance policy Madine. I gotta admit, even I gave you more than two days though."

"Sticks and stones'll break my bones but words'll never hurt me." Madine recited the old verse then paused, grinning. "Let's try that out, shall we? You can have the words… I'll have the sticks and stones—and maybe a few high-tech stand-ins—and we'll see who bleeds first."

"Funny."

"I wasn't joking. Read it."

Luke took a slow, tight breath, every nerve in his body ringing to the pressure of that blaster, his thoughts buzzing…

"_You cannot be afraid;"_ Palpatine's voice in the cell so much like this one, long ago now whispered to Luke above the pound of his heart in his ears. _"You_ cannot be afraid_. I will teach you to fear nothing because I will make you live them, every one, and survive, in some form. I will take that last fear, death itself, and make you stare it down because it holds no mystery any more; I will push you to that brink so often that it becomes an old friend, a craved release…"_

The cool muzzle of the blaster dragged against his skin as Luke lifted his head to look Madine in the eye. "If you were gonna kill me for nothing I'd be dead already. So I'll say it again; I'm not reading it. You want to kill me for that, then get it over with and pull the trigger."

The blow was a wide backhand with the weight of the blaster butt in Madine's grip, Luke's restraints stopping him from rolling with the strike which caught him across the temple and snapped his head to the side. He straightened slowly, but Madine was there instantly, grabbing at the collar of the faded flight suit Luke wore, shaking him straight as he leaned in close, pressing his blaster to the side of Luke's temple.

"You know how this goes; I can make this very, _very_ uncomfortable for you… in fact, believe me, I am just _looking_ for an excuse to do so. I think I've earned that right. You know why? Because you crossed me. You had the gall to stand among my men and claim allegiance. You came onto my turf and made a fool of me, and I don't like that. I don't tolerate that. You made this personal."

Luke laughed, actually laughed, head still reeling from the blow. "That's _it_? I bruised your _ego_? You're a small man, Madine."

"Really? Well then this small man will be the death of an Emperor, because there's only one way this will end; whatever happens, you die."

"You think I don't know that? I'm only surprised you haven't done it already. But I know something else about you as well Madine; you're not just a small man, you also have a narrow, flawed vision. Killing me won't destroy the Empire—it won't stop it. Or do you know that already? Is this really _just_ about hurting someone who hurt you… and you've dressed it up for all these people around you, given it some respectable justification."

"A _justification_ that will remove the single greatest advantage that the Empire has and the one thing we can never gain—would never want; a Sith, a Force-sensitive. I've seen what your kind can do, given the opportunity. But remove you, and we'll reduce it to an even fight… and I'll take that chance. Read it out."

Luke glanced back to the automemo, "No. You want to kill me then kill me, but I'm not gonna give you any easy excuses to hide behind. I'm not gonna appease your own guilty conscience or let you come out of this blameless."

The muzzle of Madine's blaster never broke contact as he studied Luke closely. "In a way, I'd like to see you go on trial—see what truths come out. You, you're the worst kind of agent; how many Imperial troops died onboard the first Death Star? You killed your own just to keep your cover intact."

The slightest of smiles twitched Luke's lips at Madine's twisting of the truth. "That's good; very clever."

The blaster muzzle pressed a little harder against his temple, the situation already escalating beyond control… _control… _

Again that whispered voice, in grating, grasping tones;_ "Take control, Jedi. Use those around you; anyone, everyone, always, no matter what. Move everything to your own intention because if you do not, others most certainly will, and which would you prefer?"_

Take control; act, or you'll be forced to react. Stop answering his questions and turn them around, "Sound like someone else you know? How long were you passing over information to the Rebels whilst still maintaining your rank as an Imperial General? You think no deaths occurred because of your actions? People you knew well, people you'd fought beside and lived amon—"

The slight movement of Madine's finger against the trigger silenced Luke momentarily, and that maddened him most of all. Swallowing against the warm, coppery blood in his mouth, he let out a slow breath, leaning forward into the pressure of the blaster at his head, _Either get it over with or take control. _"How many Rebels did you kill when you served the Emperor Madine? You were quite the celebrated statistician. How many strategies did you put in place, how many campaigns in Palpatine's favour? You were so proud to put your name to them then. How many do you think you'll condemn by trying to stop the peace talks, on both sides of the divide? I've always fought for the same thing Madine; I don't feel the need to validate a single action to you because Rebel or Imperial, where I was stood didn't matter; I was fighting for the same thing; I always will. You…" Luke shook his head, "I don't think you even know what you're fighting for, do you… I don't think you even care."

"I'm fighting for freedom."

"Hn," Luke let out the briefest of unamused laughs, knocking the automemo slightly with his bound hands. "_Your_ freedom, _your_ way… where anybody who you personally don't approve of isn't entitled to those same rights."

"You're not entitled to anything—you gave those rights up when you became Emperor."

"Why, because you disapprove? That's your brave new order is it Madine? _This_ person is entitled to justice because I say so, but _that_ being isn't because I personally dislike of him. Sounds suspiciously like a dictatorship to me." Luke was speaking as much to the guards who stood to silent attention about the cell as to Madine now, pushing out questions to them, because if just one of them listened and began to question Madine's actions…

Madine slammed a fist on the table, "The Rebel Alliance…"

"The Rebel Alliance want to put me on trial Madine, you said it yourself. I don't see any jury here, do you? I seriously doubt this is the kind of confession they'd consent to. Which means you're acting without their sanction in this, aren't you… aren't you?"

"Maybe they just don't care how…"

"Don't waste your breath Madine. You're running your own little show here, with your own little contingent. Your own little Empire." Again Luke was speaking to his audience stood about the cell, wanting them to know that Madine was acting on his own—that he was dragging them all down with him.

Madine straightened, the blaster he held pulling back a few inches but remaining trained on Luke's face as he forced himself to look past it to hold the General's gaze, Madine's eyes narrowing dangerously at the provocation. "I'd be _very_ careful if I were you, because if I were running my own show, believe me, you're surplus to requirements."

"Well then pull the trigger," Luke grated. "C'mon Madine, I know that you did it in Imperial detention cells to countless Rebel prisoners…"

Madine's chin rose a fraction and there was understanding in his eyes of what Luke was doing; realization that Luke was in baiting him in front of his own men. "You know nothing of the sort."

"Oh I've read the transcriptions," Luke said, nodding. "I know all about your tawdry little career. It must be quite a restriction being here now, with those you spent so many years trying to obliterate. Operating against the grain for you, isn't it, all these regulations? Or maybe it's not… maybe this is how you run all your side-scams. Your rules, your way, and everyone else close their eyes. I'm sure you tell them that this is a necessary evil; that y-"

Madine caught Luke a teeth-rattling blow across the face with the butt of the blaster, the sheer power of it striking him dumb for long seconds—and this time as he raised his head he felt the warm seep of blood burst from his lower lip and bloom over his chin, felt it flow in a choking surge from his nose—and he knew he'd won this round. Because either Madine shot the footage of a confession by someone who had clearly just taken a beating, or he had to wait… so Luke had gained a day's grace.

.

Three days after losing Luke, Mara arrived back on Coruscant to a full honor-guard on the main roof of the Palace monolith, as if the Emperor himself was returning. The seals of the documents pertaining to the line of succession had been broken at General Arco and Admiral Joss's request just one day after Luke had been caught, the inner elite of Luke's Empire looking to maintain stability and clarify the line of succession as soon as possible, despite Mara's disquiet. Rendezvousing with the Patriot, still reeling from events, she had purposely not been present when Commander Clem, Admiral Joss and General Reiss had provided the three authorized signatories necessary in one place in order to be able to open the document.

She'd been sworn into power that same night, her first command as Regent being to restrict knowledge of the Emperor's abduction to as few people as possible. The unenviable job of passing the facts on to the Empress on Coruscant then, fell to Intel Chief General Arco.

He'd also organized the Patriot's rendezvous, three hours from Coruscant, with the Spur, the Fury and the Peerless, their joint arrival in orbit engineered as an unmistakable display of military backing and endorsement. As much as she disliked D'Arca, it had never even occurred to Mara that there may be any kind of split in response to the official line of succession, but General Arco, looking to head off any potential conflict developing between the Royal Houses and the military without the Emperor's unyielding presence to hold them together, was seeking to underline the determination of the present regime to follow the Emperor's intentions without fail and to the letter.

For the first time Mara realized just why Luke had seen D'Arca as so essential to continued stability; to have her as the moderator who could willingly hold the widespread and massively influential Royal Houses in line had been the perfect answer to a long-standing problem that even Palpatine had wrestled with. In fact, Mara had to admit that Luke's shrewd inclusion and recognition of D'Arca to provide the Royal Houses with the acknowledgment and representation they desired to ensure their continued compliance had been, now that she was forced to look at the larger picture, an ingenious strategy with just one small flaw… Kiria's commitment may well be total, but it was to Luke and not Mara.

How that would play out exactly, she was about to find out, Mara reflected; one more thing to deal with, at a time when dividing her attention could lose her everything.

Stepping down from the lambda transport and between the massed ranks of Imperial military was the most daunting, overwhelming and plain terrifying moment of Mara's life to date—yet as she made that walk alone, it paled by comparison the far deeper fear that she had lost Luke forever.

Palace officials and dignitaries were already waiting, bowing in recognition of their new Regent and looking about as uncomfortable with this whole thing as Mara felt. She probably should have worn something a little more dignified than her standard catsuit, she reflected, but then she had no real idea of what she was expected to wear. She thought of Luke; tried to remember a single suit of clothing he'd worn, but had only a vague awareness of dark, somber clothes. Instead what came to mind was the night of the levee to announce his marriage to D'Arca; of tracking Luke down to thePageant Ballroom's balcony, of how hansom he'd looked in the short, fitted jacket of the flawlessly-tailored black serge suit. Of his holding her; of their dancing in the seclusion of the warm night. She remembered the subtle gleam of the Order of the Imperial Star at his throat, black stones barely visible, and her hand went to her own throat, the pang of desire to touch this thing she so associated with him, to hold it, to keep it with her, overwhelming.

Uncomfortably exposed before the parade-perfect lines of troopers, she felt her eyes glass over again and resisted the urge to wipe at them. She'd made this walk a thousand times three steps behind Luke, completely comfortable, but now suddenly all eyes were on her and not him; all expectations—and it was a daunting, overwhelming thing. Was this what Luke had felt, every time he saw the massed ranks of a formal honor-guard? Was this why he had hated them so much for so very long? By the time he'd come to power, Luke was already used to playing the political power games, both blatant and subtle, that his station demanded, but he'd never been particularly comfortable with such outward displays of ceremony. Mara had always put that down to some remaining fragment of Luke's private shyness but now, having to face that same spectacle, holding her head high as she passed before countless inquisitive eyes, simply braving the honor guard felt more like running the gauntlet that returning to the Palace.

She glanced about looking for the moral support that Hallin would have given, but he was nowhere to be seen. He'd retreated into his own quarters on that first day when the facts came out and Reece was brought aboard the Ecliptic already in restraints, and Mara had seen neither sight nor sound of him since, though she knew he had transferred to the Patriot. Having been the one who had both accused Reece and lost Luke, Mara hadn't the heart to pressure him or to question his absence, but after just two days of his silence, she was surprised by how keenly she already felt the lack of his presence.

The day was a blur of reassigning security protocols, collating data and organizing meetings with ever-escalating numbers of command staff to oversee a combined course of action, leaving Mara with the distinct impression that not only were they trying to find a needle in a haystack in trying to locate Luke, but that trying to do so with the massive juggernaut that was the Imperial military was akin to trying to find that single needle with a combine harvester. By nightfall, despite uninterrupted meetings throughout the day, Mara was itching to separate the 701st from the juggernaut, split them off into smaller groups and get out there with them in an arena that she understood and on a scale she could personally deal with. Everything moved painfully slowly, so that although they had incredible reserves of ships and bodies and equipment to throw at the situation, reassignment would take precious days to achieve, even if they had a positive direction to aim all that concentrated firepower at.

So by nightfall of her first day on Corucant and her third without Luke, as she sat at the desk in Luke's private study and stared into the gathering dusk nursing her frustrations whilst the seconds ticked away, Mara was beginning to understand just exactly why Luke had a tendency to fall back on the likes of Talon Karrde if he wanted something done quickly and quietly; she was already tempted to do the same. In fact, if she'd had a way to contact them, she would probably have done so already.

She'd locked the office door for privacy, already feeling a cloying sense of claustrophobia at being followed everywhere by Clem's bodyguards, no matter how discretely, appreciating as never before how annoying it could be. The barest hint of a smile lifted her lips in the quiet room at Luke's wry reference to the old Royal Guard as his 'red shadow', trailing after him everywhere he went. Generally on the other side of that equation, Mara had always come squarely down on Clem's side in any discussion on security, but after little more than a day the temptation to try to lose her own guards was beginning to whisper.

She'd always venerated the Palace and the power it bestowed, the way of life Palpatine had seemed to consider the ultimate goal; placed them above all other things for Luke. But now, here, without him, it all seemed an empty charade. A pointless, endless game of moves and counter-moves, the weight of the galaxy heavy on her shoulders… had it felt this way for Luke? Was this what he he'd lived with the last two years, when she had believed so completely that he had finally achieved everything he deserved.

Mara remembered with perfect, Force-infused clarity their moment of shared awareness… remembered the feeling of incessant pressure that underscored her perception of him in that moment, that fleeting instant when she'd sensed the galaxy turning with mighty, inexorable force. Remembered the pressure of it, the relentless grind, like steel to steel and bone on bone…

Everything she'd wanted for him… now, sat alone in his office at the burr-wood desk she'd watched Luke work from so very often well into the early hours, all those pressures and demands, the fear of making a single wrong move already making Mara double-think her every decision, she wondered… were those old values wrong? Were they hers at all, or simply a hangover from another life? A life which seemed pale and insubstantial now compared to the very real fear that she may lose what truly mattered to her. As she shook her head slowly, hand to her mouth, she felt again that black despair tightening about her chest in fear, making it hard to breathe, leaving her dizzy and nauseous and completely lost.

Before her on the translucent glow of the virtual screen was a locked, out of date file marked _Extrapolated Rim Fleet Movements_, pulled from Luke's private retrieval system. She'd run through the gamut of security passes, DNA, biometric and passcodes, and now all she needed to do was input the final code; '_Emerald Eyes'_. A code for a document that had been left for Mara's eyes alone. This was Luke's plan, his ultimate goal, his final objective for the Empire whose future he'd already given so much to change. All she had to do was open it and read—but she couldn't. Somehow… to open the file as he'd asked; to even _contemplate_ doing so, seemed an admission of failure. That he was gone already. That she should move on without him…

Still staring, her mind looking for any escape, Mara's eyes fell on the smooth organic curves of a small, tarnished silver holo-projector and she smiled, recognizing it of old, wondering how long it had actually stood on Luke's desk… and yet she'd never once seen him play it, didn't even know what it contained.

He had few personal belongings. Mara had always wondered whether it was because deep down, he'd never wanted to put roots down here; never wanted to believe he would stay.

She reached out and took the familiar object, studying it, wondering why it was here, what had earned it that most rare of entitlements; a place in Luke's life. It was clearly vintage, the graceful sweeping curves and flowing lines a style she recognized as very late Republic, probably just pre-reform. Expensive though; an elegant, select piece. Mara turned it over in her hands, the etching on its tactile curves worn smooth in places from handling, needing long seconds to find the concealed activation toggle.

The image flared into life, quite small; no taller than her hand, semi-transparent but still a vibrant splash of color. A woman, younger than Mara probably, with a mass of dark curls which fell from a complex headdress clearly of a similar era, the image wobbling slightly, shot from a handheld device.

"_Don't—Anni don't, I look terrible."_

"_You look beautiful."_

"_I'm fat."_

"_You're glowing."_

"_Stop."_

"_But I'll take it with me back to the Outer Rim—take you with me. Carry you in my pocket everywhere." _

"_Really? Then take this; I love you, Anni. I always will."_

Mara smiled slightly, lifting the vintage transmitter to study that final image of the unknown woman whose earnest expression was frozen forever, framed by that mane of dark curls, wondering who she was; was it someone from Luke's own youth and if so, who? And who was Anni? The unknown woman was very well-dressed, so it was unlikely to be from his childhood on Tatooine, or his guardian, Beru Lars. Where had Luke even gotten it from? She couldn't believe she'd never asked him, that she'd seen it so very often yet never thought to find out, always taking it for granted that she had all the time in the galaxy to ask him…

Her eyes were drawn through the semi-transparent image and back to the more utilitarian virtual screen which glowed brightly in the dark room, and Mara abandoned the holo-emitter, placing it gently down as its image darkened so that once again the screen became the room's only light, and that unwelcome.

She couldn't do this; couldn't open the document. Governing his Empire was neither here nor there, the endless bureaucracy and layers of administration Luke had so painstakingly put in place easily able to tick along quietly for a month or so, delaying and deferring major decisions, running a holding pattern for now... but how long was now?

What if it was…

No, she couldn't do this; couldn't walk through Luke's rooms and sit at Luke's desk and organize a fleet to look for him when she stayed here. She _couldn't be here_. With an intensity that was near-painful, Mara realized what she had asked of Luke so often in trying to curtail his desire to actively participate in making the things he cared deeply about come to pass, because the desire to be out there right now, with the troops on the ground, was a pull to the centre of her being which felt like trying to stand in the eye of a twister. She couldn't be here when things needed to be done; she simply couldn't.

She'd sat there for an hour, feeling nauseous, sick with worry… because she couldn't open that document—she _wouldn't_. Not now, not while he was still…Mara swiped at her eyes again, straightening; it was Luke's plans and she'd damn well get him back here to carry them out himself. She didn't care—she didn't _care_ what he'd written, because she trusted him to do the right thing… more than Palpatine, she realized; more than she'd ever trusted Palpatine. And if she broke this seal now, it would feel like she was letting Luke go; admitting defeat. And she damn well wasn't. Not now, not ever.

Rising, Mara strode from the room and, followed by her _red shadow_, spent the rest of the night walking the empty halls of the Palace, resisting the urge to return as Luke had done to Palpatine's deserted, dusty apartments to shout out her frustrations and accusations at the empty rooms.

.

.

Morning saw Mara sat again at Luke's wide desk in the private office in Luke's apartments. Why exactly she kept coming back to this room she didn't know, except that this was the room she remembered him sitting in hour after hour, one elbow on the desk, eyes down, head in his hand, concentrating with studied silence.

There were already a few dozen senior officers waiting in the Stateroom and the pile of issues which had now been flagged up as requiring his personal attention totaled five hundred-twenty nine on Luke's autoreader. In the time it took Mara to contact the Emperor's offices in the Cabinet and check that the system was being monitored and filtered, another nineteen had arrived—and no-one outside of the inner elite even knew Luke was gone yet. It wasn't that these things couldn't be dealt with—those layers of government Luke had set in place could handle this short-term—it was simply that at this moment in time, Mara couldn't stomach doing it.

A light knock on the door brought her eyes up as Turis entered, his nervousness such that Mara could sense it even at this range. "You asked to be informed when General Reiss arrived, Ma'am… and… the Empress is here. I've shown her to the Marble Hall."

_The Marble Hall_; as a matter of course, Luke had long encouraged Aides and staff to follow the unspoken rule that general visitors were shown to the grand, imposing Stateroom, and personal friends to the smaller but elegant White Drawing Room. Anyone anticipated to require… _extra attention_ was shown to the Marble Hall, well out of the way. Mara had always found this unspoken procedure of categorizing visitors endlessly amusing. Today, it made her want to put her head in her hands.

"Thanks, I'll be there shortly. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting now, would we?"

Turis bowed and left, clearly unsure whether that was meant to be a joke or not, and Mara sighed, looking to the desk console. Finally she typed in a contact code and waited… and waited. When she received no answer, she commed the security desk in the Aide's Office.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Could you give me a location on Nathan Hallin?"

There was a pause as the man ran it through the system, "I have him as in his quarters Ma'am."

"Override his comm and activate it; patch me through."

"Yes Ma'am."

The image of the guard disappeared as Nathan's quarters, still dark from the window's privacy filters on full, coalesced on the holo-comm set into Luke's desk. Mara frowned, "Nathan… Nathan, I know you're in there, answer me… Nathan? ………Are you actually going to make me come down there?"

A muted shadow crossed the room and Nathan sat carefully at his desk within the holo-lens's range, elbows on the desk, hands clasped. Eyes ringed with dark shadows, he looked like he'd gotten roughly as much sleep as Mara in the last few days, still wearing the same things he'd worn on the Eclipse, his normally impeccable clothes ruffled and creased, shirt and undone at the neck.

"Mara."

"Nathan… what the hell are you doing?"

"Really… very little." His somber, miserable voice was slight and subdued.

"Except sitting and stewing?"

"Well… I have a good deal to stew over, even you have to admit that."

"And I don't?"

"This is hardly your fault."

"…Are you saying it's yours?"

Nathan shook his head slowly, "Wez said to me… so many times, he said that the reforms were too much, that the Empire was loosing its way… but I let it pass. In fact, it didn't even occur to me to do otherwise. It was Wez you see… it was _Wez_. I trusted him implicitly."

"We all did Nathan; he lied to us all."

"Not like he lied to me… and I didn't see it. I really didn't see it."

Mara hesitated at the wounded grief in the bewildered tone of his voice. "You said to me once that in some things, we're all blind."

Nathan loosed a bitter laugh, "I did, I said that… because I wanted to protect Luke. Apparently I was looking in the wrong direction."

"Nathan, I don't have time for this. I don't have time for your guilt trip when I'm as much to blame myself. I was with him at the time; I should have gotten him out."

"You shouldn't have been in that position in the first place. Because of me."

"Because of _Reece_."

Nathan seemed not to hear. "You know I was the one who originally persuaded Luke to consider Wez, don't you? I said he… I said he had a good heart. I said he could be trusted."

"Nathan, Luke already knew. He knew what Wez was doing; he's known for a while. _He_ made the decision to wait. To let Wez stay."

"Why did he… oh Sith!"

Mara frowned, "What?"

"Oh, please tell me it wasn't because of me?"

Mara swallowed hard; until now, the thought hadn't even occurred to her. "I don't…"

"Oh no…" his head was in his hands now, disconsolate. "Can this get any worse!"

"Worse than what—worse than having lost Luke, or worse than doing nothing about it because you're too wrapped up in your own problems to get off your ass and do what Luke would have expected you to do? You want to know who Luke trusted—it was _you_ Nathan. It was _always_ you… more than me, certainly more than Reece. And I'm damned if I'm gonna let you blow that now by just sitting down there and stewing."

"Mara, it's three days and there's been no word. You know what everyone's thinking… that Luke's already…."

He couldn't bring himself to say it and Mara sure as hell wasn't about to let him. "Listen to me—now you listen to me; Luke is coming back. He's damn well coming back and you and I are going to do everything in our power to make that happen, you understand me?"

Nathan was already shaking his head.

"Nathan, you can't just stay holed up in there forever. You wouldn't do this if it were Luke asking. You'd help him."

"Mara… what use could I possibly be?"

"Use? Right now, I have about twenty senior staff in the Stateroom, all waiting to tell me that whatever the hell they're intending is the most important thing on the agenda, I have Arco waiting in the Cabinet to tell me what actually _is_ important, I have Admiral Joss having freed up over one hundred-sixty ships waiting for me to tell them where to start looking, I have General Reiss wanting to know which of those ships to put troops on, I have the 701st chomping at the bit… and I have Kiria D'Arca waiting in the Marble Hall… and frankly, I have no idea of what to say to her. I do know this though; I need you here. I need to have one person I know I can rely on. One person I know I can trust."

Nathan shook his head, the words coming out in a pale sigh, "You don't need my help Mara. You never did."

Mara hesitated for a second, her inability to admit any weakness flaring—but the sight of Nathan looking just as lost and wretched as she was right now gave her voice. "Nathan… I can't do this alone, okay? Are you happy now? I can't do it alone and you're the only person who knows what the hell I am going through right now, so you have ten minutes to wash up, get changed and get up here or so help me, I swear I will damn well come down there and get you."

.

.

Mara paused outside the doors to the Marble Hall, turning to take in the hunched, drawn figure of Nathan beside her. Slight and diminutive at the best of times, he looked like a walking wreck today—but at least he'd come.

"Okay, how we doing here?" Mara asked quietly.

"Like pudu. How about you?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Nathan nodded, lips pursed, "Well at least we're putting on a united front then."

Mara straightened, lips pursing, "We damn well are in front of her."

.

Kiria D'Arca turned as they entered the room, Mara experiencing a second of blind panic that Nathan would simply remain where he was beyond the door and leave her to walk in alone, but D'Arca's eyes flicked to the side as her face fell to a confused frown, and Mara knew she had her backup.

It was long, long seconds before D'Arca bowed hesitantly from the neck, the rich scarlet dress she wore rustling quietly, elegant folds resettling. She was absolutely the picture-perfect Empress, head held high with all the grace and fortitude that only someone such as she could ever muster, lips just a fraction too tight, glassy eyes blinking rapidly… projecting flawlessly the part of the injured party, the distraught spouse with too much pride to ever allow more than the barest chink to show beneath that china-doll façade.

Dressed formally in dark trousers and a fitted jacket, her hair pulled carelessly into a tight plait at the nape of her neck, Mara felt drab by comparison, fragile and resentful. But one thought kept ringing in her head, the self-same thing she'd been sternly telling herself since she'd arrived back at the Palace in anticipation of this moment; Luke's words on that last day onboard the Wasp, about Reece's betrayal; _"Kiria said he actually took an offer to her directly."_

Which meant that D'Arca had already gone to Luke with that fact; because he hadn't said that _he_ _knew_ Reece had gone to Kiria, he'd actually said, _"Kiria said…"_

Kiria _said_…

Luke trusted her; he'd always trusted her. Right now, that was going to have to be enough for Mara. Unable to bring herself to open the document he'd left for her, Mara was trying hard to take on board everything that she remembered from Luke's actions as Emperor, trying in every situation to ask herself those two vital questions, _'What would Luke have done? What would he have wanted me to do now?' _And much as she'd tried to convince herself that actually, Luke would have wanted her to punch the petite little debutante in the nose and have her thrown out of the Palace, she knew that the truth was that Luke believed he needed her; needed her co-operation to hold the Royal Houses in line. Believed it totally. And if Luke Skywalker, with all his powerplays and machinations, had needed her, then Mara Jade sure as hell did. She just didn't _want_ her.

But since she fully intended to have Luke's House be in order when he returned, to actually eject the Empress bodily from the Palace may not be the politic move Mara would so very much like it to be. And she'd made a promise, freely given on the night they'd stood alone in the enclosing shadows of the Pageant Ballroom's balcony, a riot of noise and celebration at the imminent wedding continuing behind them which neither felt any part of; _"I'll ask you this one last time, then I'll never mention it again_," she'd said of his need for Kiria's involvement. He'd said yes; he needed her, needed that conduit to the Royal Houses, to stabilize the future Empire.

So that was that; whether he was here or not, Mara had made that promise to Luke and she'd damn well keep it; Kiria D'Arca stayed.

But that didn't for one second mean she had to like it, Mara reflected, nodding just slightly, "Excellency."

"Madam Regent."

Silence; Mara heard Nathan shuffle nervously behind her, and broke it more out of consideration for him than respect for D'Arca. "I'm sure you've been made aware that in the event of his absence Luke left governorship of the Empire in my hands…"

"I'm well aware of the documents, Comman… Madam Regent. I checked them very carefully."

"I'm sure you did."

D'Arca braced, indomitable. "I won't go without a fight."

"What?"

"I won't leave without a fight. I have as much right to be here as you do."

Mara frowned, not ready to give ground already. "Your pardon Excellency, but you'll do as you're commanded."

D'Arca's chin rose a fraction, "No Ma'am, I will not. I will do as my duty demands, and that is to stay right here. I have easily as much right to be here as you do, as much right to put my backing and my willpower and my commitment into the Emperor's safe return. More so in the eyes of the people than any anonymous bodyguard, I assure you. So if you think you can make me leave, then I'd invite you to try. You may be Regent, but I'm Empress. Who do you think the people will back? Who do you think the Royal Houses will put their strength behind?"

"That's treason."

"Then I suggest you do your job as acting head of state and move to diffuse it before it comes into being. You are Regent, Commander Jade; you are neither Emperor nor Empress; remember that. You are custodian of the Emperor's dynasty, nothing more. Your job is to ensure its continued prosperity until the Emperor's return… and to do everything in your power to ensure that return."

Mara's eyes narrowed, "And you think I won't do that?"

"On the contrary, I have every faith in your readiness to do your duty; the Emperor would not have chosen you otherwise. But remember, I too was chosen by the Emperor, and it wasn't lightly. I have a place here; I have a value, a purpose, and I can assure you that I am very, _very_ capable. And I won't allow that duty to be derailed."

"And what exactly is this self-ordained duty, Excellency?"

"What it has always been, Madam Regent. To continue to stabilize and to maintain the Empire to the Emperor's design, until and beyond such a time as he returns. To that end, I will back you, Madam Regent, because the Emperor desired it…but I will _not_ defer to any command you issue that I see as contrary to the Emperor's ruling principles. And I will consider it my utmost obligation to ensure that you pursue your own duty with equal diligence—and the Emperor's safe return is most assuredly your primary goal."

Mara frowned, uncertain; was that _real_ concern… or was she simply protecting her position as Empress? "Then perhaps Excellency, you would remove yourself and allow me to do my job."

D'Arca held her ground, the picture of unyielding resolve, "Perhaps, Madam Regent, you would tell me what exactly you have achieved to date in pursuit of such?"

"We have more than forty ships-of-the-line at the Emperor's last known location, triangulating possible routes and passing those co-ordinates on to a convoy of incoming vessels who are working to clear or exclude each possibility on a radial basis. We have over five hundred craft which have been applied to the sole duty of locating the ship that the Emperor was abducted on. We have Intel being collated by the minute, we're holding full COS meetings four times daily to unify our strategy and we're mobilizing more than half the military to cope with the crisis."

"I see… so you're telling me that you don't know where he is, Madam Regent," D'Arca said. "I'd like to know what you're doing about that fact."

Mara narrowed her eyes, "Aside from wasting my time here, I presume? The fact is that at this time we don't even know whether the Emperor is still onboard the craft which was used in the abduction. And even if he were, that particular craft was a Type Six Bulk Freighter and apparently there have been, to date, more than seven hundred thousand manufactured by the Corellian Engineering Corporation. We are presently mobilizing forces at local, planetary and system level to track down and place every single freighter of that type at the time of the abduction. We're using existing security footage and intel seized from Kwenn Station to narrow our search. We also have every single Class Six freighter that we're presently aware of locked down on whatever planet or location it happened to be at. We've discounted any registered as having been professionally destroyed by licensed breakers, but not those registered as simply scrapped. We've identified those belonging to existing smuggling groups and are enlisting help from Black Sun in tracking and eliminating them from the enquiry. All of which still leaves us with a little under one hundred thousand freighters to track down and account for. This is one of almost fifty separate lines of enquiry that are being pursued at this time." Mara paused dryly, "Perhaps you'd like to attend the COS meetings in future, to save my repeating an explanation of strategies so numerous that I'd waste the next hour recapping. I'm sure you'd be the first to agree that I have better things to do with my time right now."

"I understand that someone has been arrested?"

"Someone is being held in Imperial custody." There seemed little point in bluffing when D'Arca clearly knew.

"They're being held here?"

Mara nodded, aware of Nathann moving uncomfortably behind her. "By Intel."

The Empress's eyes narrowed, "Just one person?"

Mara hesitated; if D'Arca had actually told Luke about Reece, then there was one easy way to check; offer a partial answer now and see if D'Arca volunteered the rest… as she took a breath to answer, it also occurred to Mara that D'Arca may well be testing the same fact with Mara; whether Luke had trusted Mara enough to tell her about his talk with the Empress.

Both women held the other's eye, guarded and calculating, as Mara chose her words with care, "So far everything confirms our intel that there was just one person within the Palace."

D'Arca hesitated, eyes flitting just once to Nathan, "I see… may I speak with you in private, Madam Regent?"

Mara knew immediately that D'Arca had made the connection, and just exactly what the conversation would be about—and with that realization came an unanticipated problem. Because now the Empress clearly wanted to talk further… and Mara sure as hell wasn't about to defer to D'Arca over Nathan. "Commander Hallin is one of the Emperor's closest Aides… whatever you have to say, you say it in front of him or not at all."

Nathan took a half-step forward, the hollow tone of his voice letting Mara know that he too understood what the topic of conversation would be. "No, that's alright Mara. I'll wait outside."

"Nathan, you don't have to, it.."

"I know, I understand. I'll just… I'll be in Luke's… in the Emperor's drawing room."

For a second as he turned to leave, Mara seriously thought that D'Arca was going to object to Nathan's choice of where to wait… but she clamped her jaw and held her tongue… _First time for everything_, Mara reflected dryly.

Still, by the time the double-doors closed, what little patience Mara possessed was wearing thin, "What?"

D'Arca arched her eyebrows, "Would you rather me have spoken in his presence—really?"

"Just say what you have to say."

"You're holding Wez Reece, aren't you?"

"That information is classified."

"He handed Luke over to them, didn't he?" The Empress's eyes narrowed as she looked to Mara. "Then I'm moved to wonder why he'd still alive."

Mara shook her head, "That's Luke's call."

"I'm also moved to wonder why Nathan Hallin is still free to go where he wills."

"Commander Hallin's beyond suspicion. He had nothing to do with it."

"That's a very sweeping presumption."

Mara shook her head, "No, Nathan's beyond suspicion. Luke trusted him, and that judgment's good enough for me."

D'Arca's almond eyes narrowed again just slightly and Mara cursed her own repeated reference to Nathan by his given name, knowing the Empress would doubtless now consider Mara too close to make that call. "Forgive me… but Luke also trusted Wez Reece."

"Wez was the exception." Mara said simply.

"Because?"

The truth was that Wez had been specifically picked and placed by Palpatine because he had a 'quiet mind', one difficult to read, but Mara wasn't about to share any such fact with Kiria. "You can take that up with Luke—when he comes back."

D'Arca sighed, frustration obvious. "_Why_ did he leave the man in a position where he could do this much damage? I told him… I _told_ him Wez Reece was a threat." Her eyes came up to Mara's, and there was something in them, something close to an appeal, "Did he say anything to you—did he believe me at all? Did I not make it clear?"

And in a flash of understanding, Mara realized that she was looking at a woman running the self-same questions through her head as Mara herself was. She'd come in here braced for a confrontation this morning, for D'Arca's usual undisguised scorn… but the fact was that, just like everyone else, D'Arca was questioning to her own actions, worried that she had in some way been responsible for this, just as guilty and fretful as everyone else.

Mara nodded, her voice a fraction more tolerant, "He knew Wez was a threat."

"Then why didn't he act on it?"

"You think I didn't say that to him a dozen times?"

"He is completely impossible sometimes! _Everything_ comes before him—it's like a pathological obsession!"

"I _said_ that–" Mara broke off, abruptly realizing that she and D'Arca were actually agreeing; they were both furious and frustrated and for once, it wasn't at each other. Unsettled, she glanced quickly away. "Luke had a small team from Intel watching him. All Wez's actions within the Palace were screened and checked before being forwarded, and his exposure to sensitive information was reduced; there was no way he could harm the Empire, Luke had made sure of that." Mara glanced down now, uncertain, "As to why he left him alone… I wish I could say. "

"He protected his Empire, but not himself." Kiria said, frustrated.

Mara nodded knowingly, "Sounds about right."

D'Arca frowned, calming a little as she considered; "I should have known he already knew. He said… when I told him Wez Reece was working against him his only question was whether I would stand up in court and give evidence against him."

"He didn't need a legal case," Mara bit out. "He could have moved against Reece anyway."

D'Arca nodded, "I said that too! I said that he was Emperor, he was above common law."

"And he said no-one was above the law." Mara finished knowingly.

"It can't be that way," D'Arca said with absolute conviction. "Power must be wielded in order to be protected and certain laws are absolute; they have to be. Even the suspicion of sedition should be severely dealt with. There can be no shades of gray, no extenuating circumstances—not in this."

The view of the aristocracy, Mara reflected; monarchy was incontestable and categorical. It was that uncompromising strength of belief that Luke had always sought to tap into through D'Arca, knowing that with it, he could turn the path of an Empire. For a fraction of a second, she allowed herself to wallow in the fear that it would now never come to pass… then she tightened her jaw, resolute. "What happens to Wez Reece is for the Emperor to decide."

"But you've questioned him?"

"He's been interviewed several times by Arco's Intel specialists." Mara said levelly, aware that D'Arca's anger was her concern for Luke and not a criticism.

"And he said what?"

"Nothing, but then he's an ex-Imperial Guard, so he's going to be resistant to interview techniques."

D'Arca tipped her head, unimpressed. "Is he resistant to drugs?"

Mara glanced down, "We've got no additional information from their use, only the same facts; he was acting alone, voluntarily passing information on the Rebellion for the sole purpose of removing the Emperor. He had no contact with those he passed information to, and no knowledge of what they would do."

"But we know what information was passed on—whether there was information regarding the Emperor's… abilities which the Rebellion is now in possession of?"

Mara frowned, considering the ysalamiri… was it Reece who had passed that on—she hadn't read it in the depositions from the interviews. And if so, what other sensitive information had Reece given them? Thus far, she'd avoided all contact with Reece since that first day onboard the gunboat—could she afford to do so any further? "As far as we're aware, Commander Reece hasn't withheld any information."

"Have you exhausted all drug types—are you sure you have all the information?"

"I'm sorry, I can't say at this time what we have and haven't used." she could hardly admit to D'Arca that she'd ordered Arco to hold off using a few of the more potent extremes in consideration of Luke's next set of upcoming statutes. Ones that she knew should have been enacted into law the day Luke was taken.

"Have you used tricliptidines?"

Mara lifted her head, surprised that D'Arca had such specific knowledge. "No… no, we haven't."

"May I ask why?"

"They were about to be declared illegal in the next set of statutes. Statutes that should have been enacted four days ago."

"Were they enacted?"

"No, the legislature's still on my… on Luke's desk."

"Then they're not _yet_ illegal?"

Mara swallowed against the temptation, "In all but name they are."

"Those drugs were invented by the Empire for this specific purpose."

"By Palpatine's order, not by Luke's. If Luke passed edicts outlawing them, then I won't use them, full stop." Was she really doing this—actually arguing _against_ the regime she'd grown up with; the regime she'd believed for so long was unfaultable?

D'Arca only scowled, "So that's it, you're not going to use them?"

"They were declared illegal at Luke's command. I'm not going to countermand that, no," Mara said firmly. "You just said you thought it was your duty to make sure I didn't do anything that was contrary to the Emperor's ruling principles and now you want me to start going against his orders after just four days?"

"I want you to get him back." D'Arca said, unfazed by the fire in Mara's voice.

"I intend to."

"Then speak to Wez Reece!"

"Intel are already doing so."

"And you're confident that these anonymous interrogators know the Emperor better than you do—his unique strengths and weaknesses? That they'll know which leads to follow and which questions to pursue based on small facts that might pass anyone who wasn't familiar with the Emperor's capabilities by, things that only someone close to him on a daily basis and familiar with those abilities might understand?"

It was, Mara knew, a valid point… so why had she been putting it off? Why hadn't she once been near Reece?

"Tomorrow," Mara said with a single nod of her head, annoyed at having been called on it. "I'll interview him myself tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is too late, Madam Regent." D'Arca raised her chin, eyes lancing Mara with undisguised challenge. "_Now_ is barely soon enough. I'll interview him myself if needs be."

"You think it's that simple—that you just walk in there and start asking random questions."

"I may not have the experience, but I do have the resolve."

Mara raised an eyebrow, freshly motivated to find her own composure and determination. "Fortunately, I have both."

.

.

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	36. Chapter 36

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.

Luke lay awake, staring at the curve of the cell walls he couldn't see in the darkness, forcing himself to think; to analyze the facts and not simply allow his mind to roam again to the endless memories which this room could invoke simply by existing. Even in darkness and by the perception of more mundane senses, it demanded recognition; the dull silence of his own breath against the curve of the walls, the smell of the surgically-scrubbed oxygen exchange, the white-noise hiss of its internal filter, the cool chill of unheated air. Every sigh and every breath and every movement conveyed the knowledge of this cell he was caged in even without the Force.

Without the Force…he blinked slowly, concentrating his thoughts; it was like an internal shudder, like the momentary glimpse of a chasm in darkness—and not for the first time, the disturbing thought occurred…what if he were to die here, never again touching it, the measured echo of the universe that had pulsed for so long in his awareness that it had become as familiar as his own heartbeat.

He remembered again his nightmare just months ago… only it hadn't been a nightmare of course; it had been a vision, an echo of the future, a momentary impression of this cell, the same sense of this impenetrable void within the force, of people and events shuttering past, whirling about him, steps away yet light-years from his reach as he remained trapped in this perfect, empty bubble of isolation created by the ysalamiri…only he hadn't recognized it as such at the time.

Ysalamiri; he laughed just once, the sound deadened by the cell; ysalamiri. Smart move; he never would have released the plans to the cell—would at least have hesitated; walked into this trap forewarned—if he'd had that one, vital fact. Ysalamiri.

Luke had released the cell plans only to draw Reece into making a mistake, believing that it was no longer a threat, that it couldn't hold him. And it couldn't… _if_ he had access to the Force. Now—they could have placed him in a secure room with a pair of binders on and he would be as trapped as anyone else.

Luke frowned again, forcing himself to concentrate, to study that fact; as trapped as anyone else. So the question was….why all this? Why bother with the cell at all?

Palpatine had used the cell many times, but he was also in contact with the Force; he could _sense_ Luke's connection; knew when Luke's power had overtaken even this cell's ability to hold him, and had changed his own tactics accordingly.

Now it was different; these people were dealing with the ultimate unknown, something they could neither see nor hear nor measure. Yes, they were using ysalamiri to sever Luke's contact with the Force, but… they'd built the cell because they had no way to _measure_ whether Luke was able to access the Force at any given time; no way to ensure that the ysalamiri were working, or how completely they severed contact. No way to know that with the ysalamiri present, any door with a lock and key would hold him. They didn't _know_ what worked and what didn't, or to what extent… so they were using every means they had to control him, every rumor and method they'd ever heard. And it was working.

But all these back-ups were covering that one vital flaw; they didn't _know_ what was effective. They were working blind—and people working blind in a fluid situation could easily make mistakes without even realizing it…

Lights flooded and flared across the curved sphere of the cell, the doors opening with that same delayed, rasping scrape as before; different somehow though—different to the original. How? Still flinching at the unaccustomed light, attention on the slow-opening door, Luke barely saw the young man who came through and walked a wide arc to the far side of the domed, circular cell.

"Food." The soldier placed a flimsyplast bowl on the floor just inside the wide, roughly painted circle and stepped back, wary.

Luke rose, stiff and sore, hand going automatically to the scar at the base of his skull. The swelling had gone, leaving a deep ache… and if Luke pressed against it, he could just feel the edge of something solid. He wanted to believe that it was a tracker, but knew that wouldn't be the truth of it; on Tatooine in his youth, he'd often seen slaves in the major townships, and anyone on any abckwater world knew that slavers placed distance chip-charges in slaves' bodies to keep them put, usually against the spine or at the base of the skull. He'd be deluding himself to believe this was anything else.

Frowning at the thought, Luke walked forward, just able to reach the dropped bowl at the full stretch of the chain about his ankle, nodding at the floor as he backstepped to sit on the edge of the heavy bunk frame. "Clever."

"What?"

Luke looked up, surprised that the man had answered. None of the others did. "The circle drawn on the floor; that's how far I can reach when I'm chained to the bunk frame."

"Yeah; we have to stay outside of it if we come in alone."

Luke studied the man as he spoke; he was young, maybe eighteen, with a Rim accent, fair hair and a baggy S.O. uniform that looked too big for him. For some reason, he instantly made Luke think of himself at that age.

He glanced down at the food; some flatbreads and overripe juja. The quality of rations hadn't changed in the last seven years then. Eventually, aware that the youth wasn't leaving, Luke glanced up, "What?"

"I have to wait for the bowl."

Luke glanced down at the flimsyplast bowl and laughed, the action re-opening the deep split in his lip and making him wince.

Eyes still on the dish, Luke watched a perfect circlet of blood drop onto it, staring for long seconds…

The youth's voice, hesitant but fascinated, pulled him from the moment.

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"Being Emperor."

Luke laughed humorlessly, "Today it's very much like sitting in a small, cold cell whilst a bunch of people you once trusted decide how to kill you."

The young man glanced away uncomfortably, and that alone made Luke look a little closer. He really couldn't be more than eighteen, probably all fired up with righteous indignation and revolutionary zeal, as Luke had been at that age. He was also, being the youngest man Luke had seen and given his guilty reaction just now, the most likely to crack a little.

Luke glanced to the now-closed door, then back to the youth. Making a conscious effort, he dropped every trace of the Coruscanti accent Palpatine had spent so long grinding into him. "So how d'you end up working for Madine?"

The young soldier pursed his lips, "We're not supposed to talk to you."

"You can't just stand there in silence and watch me eat. Look, there are two security lenses on us right now and doubtless a fair few of your friends watching on a viewscreen somewhere—I'm sure that if you said anything untoward they'd let you know pretty damn quick."

The soldier looked away then back to Luke, "Your… your lip is bleeding."

"Yeah, someone punched me in the face with a blaster butt. Kinda hurt."

"D'you…want.. something for it?"

"No. They'll do it again in a few hours."

The youth looked away again at Luke's deliberately provocative words, but then Luke had still nursed a conscience at that age too, when he'd been green and innocent and blindly trusting. When it had all been some kind of inspiring cross between an adventure and a passion; a calling in his life. When he'd still naïvely let others tell him the path he should take and dictate the way that things should be.

Now, looking at it all that same credulity in the youth before him, all Luke saw was an opportunity to be used. Was that what Madine had seen when he'd first set eyes on the naïve pilot that Luke Skywalker had been back then, always ready to risk his own life for someone else's ambitions and objectives?

Then again, was Luke any different any more—because he was willing to do the same right now.

"What's your name?"

"Tam... I don't think I should tell you my surname."

"Fair enough… but it's on the name tag on your uniform."

Tam glanced down, panicked, hand to his chest… before he realized he had no such tag.

_Not been here long then, _Luke reflected as the young man glanced back to him, frowning. Luke gave another easygoing grin as if sharing a joke, before looking down to eat a little more of the flatbread. He didn't want it; had a loose tooth which gave a shooting pang with every bite, but he wanted to prolong the soldier's time in the cell as long as possible; wanted to try to get him talking.

As it turned out, it wasn't that hard; it was Tam who spoke out, blurting the words as if desperate to know.

"Why did you let them go at Fondor?"

Luke frowned, "What?"

"Fondor—the raid on the shipyards there. You let all the pilots go. Why d'you do that?"

"Were you there?"

"My brother was. Cal; he's a pilot. That's how come I'm here; Cal flies on the General's Special Ops missions, and he got me in too. He says they were dead in space, sitting targets, but you let them all go."

Luke nodded slowly, "I let them all go."

Tam frowned, uncertain. "Madine says it was all just political. That you were playing some kinda game and they just happened to be involved. He says you could just as easily have killed them—that you'd do it next time without even flinching."

"Madine projects his own narrow views onto a situation he doesn't understand and a scale he has no concept of." Luke stared at the young man, who just looked back uncertainly, blinking. "I let them go because there was no reason for them to die. Because no-one should have to die for their beliefs. Because that's not a reason to kill either—no-one can claim that right. I let them go because they were just trying to do what they deemed to be the right thing in a difficult situation—which is no different from what I'm trying to do."

"By ruling an Empire?"

"By _changing_ an Empire."

"It—it'd still an Empire."

"But not _the_ Empire." Luke hesitated just slightly, wondering how far he could press this, wanting to use this opportunity before either the kid walked away or someone came in and curtailed it. He wanted to get word outside this cell, wanted to stir things up— because if it all it achieved was to make just one man hesitate just one second before he fired on Luke, it could be the difference between life and death.

"But an Empire; your Empire," Tam said. "You're still the Emperor."

"I am—just not the one you think. Not the one who'd continue Palpatine's Empire. I'm the man who's already rescinded the Slavery Edict and the Classification Act. The man who opened up the HoloNet again. The man who reinstated the legal system and incorporated inalienable rights into the constitution. I'm the man who'll change it completely, given time… but it's difficult to do that if I'm dead."

Tam took a step back, glancing down uncomfortably. "They say you'll go to trial."

Luke reached up to wipe the blood from his lip, "Do you think Madine will let that happen—or that it would be a fair trial if it did?" He paused; took a gamble based on the fact that he'd still seen no other member of the Alliance's leadership than Madine. "And why am I here and not on Home One?"

"Madine trusts everyone here…" Tam's voice was quieter now, a little less sure.

_Not on Home One then....maybe still on the Wasp._

The first thing Luke heard was the hiss of the vacuum in the short corridor between the inner and outer door of the cell being discharged. "Madine has _control over_ everyone here," he corrected, glancing meaningfully to the door.

The heavy _clack_ of multiple catches releasing sounded, the outer door opening first.

"It'll be a fair trial." Tam said firmly.

The inner door ran through its lock cycle now, almost open.

Luke glanced back to Tam. "Your leadership _wants_ a fair trial," Luke emphasized. "Come back in a weeks time, when Madine's getting a little more frustrated and a little less restrained because I won't read out the confession he's already written for that _fair_ trial…"

The inner door opened into the room, shielding whoever had opened it from Luke's view, though he'd kept his eyes on the young soldier anyway. "One week Tam; come back and look me in the eye and say that again."

"I have to go." Tam backed out, breaking eye-contact and shaking his head.

Luke watched in silence as the heavy doors closed with a reverberating clang, wondering if he'd gotten through to the young man.

"_That's how come I'm here; Cal flies on the General's Special Ops missions, and he got me in too…." _Tam wasn't one of Madine's men; he was here by chance, not design.

He needed to speak to him again, to draw him out, to… Luke paused, smiling, licking the blood that formed on his lip, vividly reminded of his first few weeks in Palpatine's custody, Mara his carefully-appointed jailor. He remembered trying to draw her out, to get her speaking, to form some kind of connection in a situation so similar to this…

Only not, because when he'd spoken to Mara, it had been to try to establish a genuine connection, part curiosity, part hope.

Now… now he was older and wiser, and the reason he wanted to get the kid talking was far less principled; he wanted information—about what was outside his cell. He wanted to get word out there, of what was taking place in it… and he wanted the kid used to talking to him, so that if it came to it, he may hesitate that fraction of a second before he pulled that blaster he wore—and that may be all that Luke needed. It might be the difference between life and death… for either of them.

He remembered Palpatine mocking him, amused that Luke had bought Mara's life with a hard-to-ask appeal to his old Master not to kill her. _'In your position I would have let her die'_,he'd said.

Then, the idea had been unthinkable.

Now… he didn't disagree with the soldier; didn't oppose his views, even respected his willingness to fight for them… but to do so put him in Luke's path, and it was that simple.

Luke frowned, considering… he'd wondered often, in his final years with Palpatine and beyond, whether he was truly a Sith. Yes, he had a conscience; yes it tore at him sometimes like the turn of a knife. But in the moment, if instinct took over… that wouldn't stop him and he knew it.

And if so… that same notion beat at Luke's thoughts once again as he looked down to the drying drop of blood in the bowl that Tam had abandoned; had Palpatine won after all?

Those words, once hissed in malice as the ultimate threat, whispered again through Luke's thoughts; _"What do you fear, Jedi? What do you see in the dark when your demons come?"_

Uneasy misgivings at that were overtaken by a far more immediate realization as Luke dropped the bowl he had been staring at, holding out his hands and turning them over, rising as he did so, alarm overtaking him;

His ring; his mothers ring. It was gone.

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Mara arrived at the detention block just after dawn on the fifth day without Luke…she hadn't slept yet anyway.

Stood beside her, Nathan looked about as rough as Mara felt, his big brown eyes ringed by dark circles from sleeplessness. She knew that for sure because they'd both spent the entire night wide awake in Luke's study, going through the ever-increasing pile of documents in the Inbox and prioritizing them into new, smaller piles based on Nathan's quickly-scribbled headers of , "Do Now', 'Do Later', 'Put Off' and 'Try to Ignore'.

"I don't think Luke does it like this." Mara had said, eying Nathan's classifications wryly.

"Oh, he has a 'Try to Ignore' category," Nathan had said dryly, "He just doesn't write it down."

He'd worked in silence most of the night though, speaking only when he had a query, occasionally slowing to nothing and simply staring at the documents without seeing them, mind clearly elsewhere, that expressive face pinched and vulnerable. So Mara had been shocked when this morning, Nathan had pursed his lips into a line of determination and said that he wanted to come down to the detention centre with her… and hardly surprised when, as they reached the cell door, Nathan backstepped quickly, shaking his head.

"I can't do it—I can't go in."

"You don't have to," Mara reassured. "I didn't expect you to."

He nodded, bewildered almost… then, as Mara set forward, he reached out to take her arm, "Mara!"

She turned, and he sighed, anxious but unable to stop himself; "You won't…"

"I'm just going to ask him some questions Nathan. That's all."

He'd been so close to both Wez and Luke; Mara couldn't imagine what was going on in his head right now at finding out that one had turned on the other so spectacularly. For Mara this was an easy, clear-cut line; Wez was a traitor who had been instrumental in taking Luke from her. And she'd known for so long; had the time to work through the shock of betrayal that Nathan was feeling right now. Mara felt a small stab of guilt at the knowledge that she'd not told Nathan long ago, but now, looking back, she could easily see where Luke would have held off telling Nathan simply because he didn't want to be the one who had to bring this rift to Nath; not without good cause. And of course Nathan had taken that fact onboard as a huge lump of guilt; that Luke had held back for him. What exactly would pull Nathan out of his dark depression now Mara didn't know, and she didn't want to even begin to speculate what would happen if… if Luke never…

She scowled at the thought, at her own superstitious inability to even think it. And secretly, as she set towards the opening cell door, she wondered whether she maybe envied Nathan a little too, in the choice that she simply didn't have; the choice to avoid this.

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By the time she entered the room, Mara's chin was held high, her face set in stone. Wez Reece sat at the far side of a long table, hands bound, watching her closely as she walked forward.

Mara looked away, placing the reader she'd brought in down on the table, all business. Though it wasn't her forte she was more than capable of such interviews, having done hundreds of interrogations in Palpatine's name. This time however, she couldn't quite bring herself to look the subject in the eye, her anger bubbling up already, her jaw tightening—and for the first time, she knew why she hadn't once been down here; hadn't even listened to the interview recordings, reading them as transcriptions instead. Because as she sat and looked down at her own white knuckles holding the autoreader, she realized that for the first time ever in an interview, she might actually go off the deep end and just lunge at the subject.

Instead she took a long breath, staring hard at the reader as if studying her notes, taking a moment to rally her thoughts into the more neutral frame of mind that she knew was essential. Taking her time all over again to activate the record system on the reader…before finally she lifted her head, looking Reece in the eye.

"This is interview session number… eleven. Commander Jade conducting. Time is six fifteen am on forty-five, fifth, third, Coruscant Standard."

Reece set his head slightly to the side, a half-smile on his face, his voice very calm. "Up early, Mara—that's not like you."

Mara narrowed her eyes, and in the silence, she heard her own nails scrape across the back of the autoreader she held. The temptation to yell, to rebuff the familiarity, to force him to refer to her as Commander Jade and impose that distance, was almost overwhelming. But she knew that chances were he'd be more likely to make a slip if he was relaxed, so she let the moment slide, dragging a thin smile to her lips as she nodded. "Busy."

"I'm sure… You know that I'm sorry that all this had to fall on you like this, don't you? That was never my intention. Well, it was my intention that you come to power, but…"

"Let's just skip the validations, shall we?"

He paused a few seconds, "I presume you've been elevated to Regent?"

Mara didn't speak, having no intention of enlightening Reece as to what was happening outside of this cell, but he only smiled, offensively content. "It'll be permanent inside of a month. I was hoping to guide you through this period; to stabilize the Empire and the pass over of power… you'll make a great Empress, Ma'am."

Mara leaned back, biting at the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to ask Reece why he wanted Luke dead. You didn't do that; you didn't get bogged down in personal opinions. You asked questions, you listened, and you stuck to the facts…

Reece shrugged; giving another half-smile that grated on her raw nerves, "I was hoping you'd come eventually—that we could talk."

"Well then make it worth my while or I swear I'm walking out that door within the minute."

Reece leaned back slightly, body-posture very open—but then he knew all the techniques. "Ask me anything."

"Who were you passing information on to?"

"I've already told Arco this. As far as I'm aware, it was being passed onto the ex-Imperial General Crix Madine, directly, using codes the Emperor had already established within the Rebellion."

"You used Luke's codes?"

"Yes—not the ones he used with Argot, of course. Older ones; ones he thought he'd closed down." He tilted his head, "I'm not an idiot."

"You still got caught." She shouldn't have said it, she knew, but in that second she couldn't resist.

"So did the Emperor."

Mara raised her chin and bit down on a caustic reply; _facts—stick to getting the facts_. "What exactly did you give Madine?"

"I've already answered that about ten times. I gave him dates occasionally—places the Emperor would be when he was at his most vulnerable, numbers of guards, comm frequencies, that kind of thing. I never passed on anything that would damage us; I'm loyal to the values of the Empire."

Mara's tapped her foot rapidly on the floor beneath the table, unseen, every muscle taut. "You passed on other information too—more specific stuff."

"I gave Madine previous ways that Emperor Palpatine had held Skywalker, yes. Nothing that would compromise wider galactic security."

He said it so staunchly, as if that were something to be proud of.

"You passed on information about the cell Palpatine had used."

"Yes, I did."

"Why? Why that?"

"As persuasion. Argot passed on information about a plan Madine had made a while back that had been dismissed by the Rebellion as unworkable. I gave him the methods to make it viable again…"

"So you know what Madine intends to do?" This wasn't in the briefs she'd read; why was he telling her now?

Reece nodded slowly, "Skywalker passed Argot's information about a plan on to Commander Arco in an Intel brief probably just over a year ago, remember? It was another assassination attempt, but with a twist. Madine wanted to seize the Emperor and put it on a viral on the HoloNet to claim responsibility on behalf of the Rebellion… then when the viral was at its height, he'd kill him—live, on the HoloNet. No more Emperor."

Mara was on her feet as he finished the last word, lunging forward, taking the scruff of his shirt at the shoulders, her wrists automatically crossed at his neck; strangle him; she could do it easily like this, even with a man of Reece's bulk, the power of her arms greater on the outward pull. She knew that…

Nathan's words came back to her in a flash of conscience; _"Mara—you won't…"_

Inches from his face, Mara felt her lip twitch; frustration, disgust—simply an overload of emotion; she didn't know. But she loosened her hold, stepped back…

Turning to walk back mechanically to her seat was one of the most difficult things Mara had ever done in her life.

She took her time as she rightened the chair she'd toppled and sat down again slowly, mind and body buzzing with the desire to give vent to her anger…

Instead, she leaned forward, her breath coming out in a low hiss as she rubbed at her face, adrenaline and enmity making her feel like she was itching inside her own skin.

_Get the information…_ An intense headache was forming behind her eyes from having to deal so civilly with the man who had taken everything from her.

Reece moved just slightly, "I know you think that I betrayed him…"

"_Think?!_"

"But I couldn't serve both him and my Empire. I couldn't remain loyal to both."

"You gave the Emperor over to the Rebels—you don't think _that_ was harmful to the Empire?!"

"You understand Ma'am; this isn't some kind of personal grudge. Skywalker simply wasn't the right person to rule."

"In your opinion!" Mara growled, eyes afire.

"He was dismantling the Empire."

"He was…" Mara paused; there was no point. No point in arguing. No point in saying he was wrong—because he _was_ wrong.

Yes, you could so easily look at it as the dissolution of the Empire; the edicts, the slackening of military power, the levelling of the constitution—they _were_ changing everything; the course of an Empire. She'd just chosen not to think of it that way. At first, she'd chosen not to because she trusted Luke, but now… now, seeing the results—was Luke's Empire really any less stable? Any less lawful? Or was it simply more fair?

It came to her in a rush of realization so strong that it was almost dizzying, almost euphoric. Because it was now, facing Reece, facing the kind of strong-armed, narrow-minded totalitarianism that had typified the old Empire, that Mara _knew_. She didn't want that old Empire back; had not, for a single day, lamented its loss.

The truth was, she didn't need to open the document Luke had left her to see what he intended; she already knew… had known, deep down, for a long time…

And she'd known, deep down, for a long time, that it was the right thing to do.

"He wasn't fit to rule Palpatine's Empire." Reece said again. "For the sake of that Empire—the one we both swore an oath to protect—I had to act."

"So you gave Madine a way to hold Luke whilst he put his plan into action."

"I gave the Empire another chance to find itself, to reinstate its values."

"By selling the Emperor out to a man who intends to publicly execute him."

"But look what it gained us, Ma'am; an Empire united against the rebellion, against the canker and weakness that has spread with these supposed _reforms_. I've given you an Empire that will follow you into battle Ma'am. An Empire that'll give the Rebels no quarter any more. All it needs is a new leader. Someone with grit and resolve; with a single-minded aim and a clear target."

"And you think that would be me??!"

Reece leaned back, his faith in his own abilities clearly not lacking—but then she didn't suppose they ever had been. Mara wanted to yell, to scream at him that he was wrong; that she'd back Luke whatever, that she'd follow his plans to the letter with the same tenacity and faith and commitment as if he'd been stood beside her. That they were…

That they were her hopes too.

"They'll follow you now." Reece said. "The military, the Royal Houses…I've given them a just war, I've given them a righteous cause…

Mara frowned, understanding. "This wasn't just to remove an Emperor. This was to drive a wedge between the Empire and the Rebellion, when you _knew_ Luke was trying to bridge that gap." She ground her jaw, furious and belligerent, hands balling to fists. Because he'd given her cause too, Mara realized; given her a reason to fight… and Force help her, if they harmed Luke, she would. Even now, knowing everything, she'd still turn on them. She'd still turn every last gun in the fleet on them if they took Luke from her.

Reece shook his head, "Skywalker had the ability to destroy the rebellion years ago—he just lacked the resolve."

Resolve; Mara would have laughed aloud, had it not been so dire. He'd already shown it in his every choice; in his determination to change things…

Just as much strength, in his own way, as Palpatine. Just as much vision. All that tenacity and drive and vision that Mara had once seen and respected so very much in Palpatine, she saw it now in Luke.

Resolve enough to hold to his own goal of a bloodless coup which had taken him to the negotiation table with those who'd tried to assassinate him. Because he believed in something bigger. Bigger than the rigid, dogmatic Empire he'd grown up in, bigger than the narrow vision of personal supremacy that Palpatine had tried so hard to bind him with—certainly bigger than Wez Reece's petty power plays.

"So you went to Madine, to solve all your problems?" Mara said evenly.

"It had to be Madine I gave the information to. Skywalker had learned his trade from the master of manipulations. I needed a tactician to beat him—a very good one. As it happened, the best one I could name was also a Rebel General."

"But even he couldn't do it without help...so you gave Madine a way to catch him, at the one time that Luke would be unprotected. And you gave him the ysalamiri, to ensure Luke's capture."

Reece frowned, "Ysalamiri?"

She'd been thinking on their use; holding on to the one fact that gave Luke and therefore herself, a sliver of hope—because the thing about ysalamiri was that unless you were a Force-sensitive, you couldn't really know where their influence started and ended, which meant that you were using a method of restraint that you couldn't actually see or measure… and that kind of inaccuracy led to mistakes. So she needed to know just _exactly_ how much Madine really knew about the creatures' abilities…

And she'd thought that Reece would be the man to come to. "You didn't give him that information?"

"I've never heard of it." Reece held her eye as he spoke, and even with her rudimentary awareness in the Force Mara knew, as she had done throughout this interview, that he was telling the truth.

"Then how did Madine think he was going to keep a Sith under control, even with that cell? You know as well as I do that it wouldn't work."

"No it wouldn't…" Reece paused for long seconds—and Mara felt an uneasy shiver slide up her spine.

"I gave Madine the drug that controls Skywalker—I gave him SK-seventeen."

And that slow shiver turned into a nerve-slicing flash of fear that constricted her throat as Mara shook her head, struggling to speak. "No, there were no existing samples of that drug or its formula. I _watched_ you destroy them. I was responsible for checking that you destroyed every copy—I made sure."

Reece leaned back, clearly surprised at her admission, but a tight, knowing smile came to his lips very quickly. "Is that a fact? Well then isn't that ironic…you see, I was still blindly following orders back then and you're right, I really did do it; I made it my mission to destroy every single sample of that drug, every reference, every trace. It was a only a few months ago that I wondered if there could still be one source in existence…because even though I'd destroyed every trace of SKX, and even though I knew that you yourself followed Skywalker's orders to the letter, there was one man whose orders had always overridden even them…I wanted to tell you this personally, Mara. I wanted to remind you of who you were, where your true loyalties lie, even now—who you still are, deep down—otherwise you wouldn't have kept it."

Mara stood abruptly, the chair clattering away behind her as she turned and set out of the cell at a run.

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Nathan was still waiting tensely at the far end of the detention centre corridor when the banging began on the locked door of Wez's cell, Mara's muffled shouts alarming him. The guard rushed to open it as Nathan hurried forward to see her practically fall out of the room, recovering her balance and setting forward at a dead-run, not even acknowledging him as she passed, despite his shout.

Glancing once back to the still-closing cell door, Nathan set off down the corridor after Mara, shouting her name though she didn't slow down.

He trailed her all the way back to the North Tower and her rooms there, entering the thrown-wide door to her apartment a good few paces behind her, panting heavily. It wasn't hard to work out where she was though, her shouts of frustration and anger guiding him on. When he stopped at the door to her bedroom, she'd pushed aside the doors to the wall-long closet and was dragging clothes from the hanging robe store, hurling them aside as Hallin watched, breathless and confused.

"What… what are you doing?"

"I have a safe…"

"Safe?" None of this made sense.

With a frustrated yell, Mara yanked the last of the clothes clear and leaned in to the palm pad of a small safe set into the wall as Nathan stepped closer, still lost. She wrenched open the door and reached within, dragging the collection of fake ID's and memory-chips and small boxes out and simply abandoning them to fall to the floor in her wild search. Finally she found what she was clearly looking for, backing up into the room with a small metal box in her hands—the same small metal box that Nathan himself had found in Mara's quarters onboard the Patriot three years ago.

And abruptly he put it all together. "Oh Sith no, Mara… you didn't…"

Breathless with anxiety, Mara didn't answer Nathan, didn't acknowledge him at all, face pale as she forced the lid open with trembling hands…

Inside were two medical vials barely the size of her little finger, each containing one measure of dirty brown liquid… SK-seventeen, the drug Palpatine's specialists had tailor-made specifically to control Luke. The drug that Luke had ordered Reece to destroy every single sample and formula of, then secretly ordered Mara to check that he did. And Reece had; he was telling the truth; he had destroyed every single sample… it was Mara who had kept the last two vials in existence.

Luke had told her; he'd said at the time, _"That includes the samples you hold"_, and she had—she'd taken the three vials she'd kept on Coruscant and destroyed them… then months later she'd found another two secreted away in her quarters onboard the Patriot and… oh, she should have destroyed them there and then; why had she kept them? But she had. She'd brought them back to Coruscant and locked them away and somehow managed to convince herself to ignore them, to forget about their existence entirely. The last time she'd even thought of them had been when she'd been called to Luke in the Practice Rooms in the Palace after midnight, though she wouldn't have used them; never that.

The vials grated and chimed against each-other as she pulled them free, her fingers trembling. "They're still here."

Relief made her dizzy, her breath escaping her in a sigh as Nathan set forward.

Why had she kept them? Some fleeting memory of Palpatine's order to never be without them, wherever she and Luke travelled, flitted even now through her mind; the absolute authority of that command, his ochre eyes locked on hers, grating voice issuing an undeniable demand; _never_ be without them.

Stupid; she'd been so incredibly reckless to keep them, clinging mindlessly to some old directive pronounced by a long-dead man, pushing the vials to the back of the safe and doing her level best to forget their existence, torn between a lingering command from her abandoned past and that tiny fragment of fear, that brief, tormented memory of Luke's return to the Palace when his father was dead; of the fury and hostility and accusation in his eyes when he'd caught hold of her and powered her back against the wall, hand tight about her throat. The knowledge, in that second, of what he would be capable of if he surrendered restraint to become Palpatine's Sith wolf.

But they were here; both vials were here and despite Reece's goading claim it wasn't her doing. The reprieve left her trembling, nauseous, furious at herself. She'd destroy them now; right now. She held them out, thinking to drop them to the floor and crush them—

Nathan reached out to catch the vials as Mara released them and as she looked to him he lifted them up to the light, studying them for long moments with a professional eye… and once again that icy quiver chilled her spine and froze her lungs…

"They're not the same." Nathan said quietly.

"….. what?"

"They're not the same; this one's gone just slightly cloudy." He lowered them, voice quiet and perfectly even, as people are when they're too angry to shout. "We'll take them to the lab and get them tested, but I can pretty much guarantee you that the clouded one is fake."

Mara dropped back onto the edge of her bed, legs weak, head spinning, the momentary reprieve ripped away…..

Because she had done this. She had made it possible. Reece had always known that Mara was one of the few people entrusted with the vials back when Palpatine was alive; he must have wondered if she still had any, must have broken in at some point and in her own desire to dismiss their existence Mara never checked the vials, tried not to even see them. Her breath left her in a low sigh, a tight band constricting about her chest, a numbness taking over her thoughts… _she had done this._

She was aware of Nathan watching her for a long time before she finally looked up and he asked the only question there was, his voice still laced with the restrained timbre of one who knew that if he started shouting he'd lose control entirely. "Why did you keep them?"

"I don't know—I really don't know." She'd told Luke they were all destroyed; she'd given that assurance. _She_ was responsible for this. The memory of that tuft of red passing in a blur to embed in the wall behind she and Luke onboard the Rebel freighter came back with painful insight, a momentary imagination of his falling to the deck when the darts hit knifing into her mind.

He'd always said… hadn't he always said it; _"My fate in your hands."_

_._

_._

_._


	37. Chapter 37

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Leia walked down the narrow corridors of the _Wasp_, feeling, for the first time ever, on edge in an Alliance vessel. Because of Madine; Madine, who was playing his own power games. Madine, who was splitting the Alliance in two with this; Madine, who had captured and imprisoned her own… her own brother.

Though the General's power plays had gained her something; she'd been allowed onboard the _Wasp_ with minimal conflict after only four days' wait, mainly due to the fact that Madine was still working hard to gain popularity and standing on the back of his actions, and since the Council had backed Leia's request to see the Emperor, he'd been unable to object too much—and for the same reason, Leia felt reasonably safe in coming here…for now. Not that safe that she hadn't brought two Frigates to the meeting point and an 'honor guard' of ten commandos onboard with her of course, but that was just common sense.

In fact, at the moment, Leia was far more worried about what Han—who had remained conspicuously onboard Home One when Leia had left, in accordance with Madine's conditions of her visit—might do off his own back than whatever Madine would muster, still seeking maintain favour in the Council.

Han however, had no such political leanings, so the only thing that was holding him in check right now was Leia's request of him not to do anything _yet_, for Luke's sake. But she knew that the moment she got back, Han would fire a hundred questions at her about the _Wasp_, its layout and its defences. And she knew why.

To Leia's mind, their best bet was still to get Luke off the _Wasp_ and onboard Home One, where she had control of the situation, and to that end she was unwilling to do anything which would exacerbate the situation until she had to; Han was right—Madine wasn't the kind of man you backed into a corner or tried to bluff.

Still, at the back of her mind right now, as she walked the _Wasp's_ corridors behind her wary guides, she was aware of counting troop numbers and looking for security and defences, should it come to a fight. And since four of the six commandos Tag Massa had assigned to Leia were Intel, she was pretty sure that Tag was thinking the same, sending trained eyes and ears in to gain valuable information.

Tag had, of course, been her usual efficient self before Leia had set off for the rendezvous, trying to offer a level voice when Han had been pushing to get a transmitter onboard the _Wasp_ so they could track it, and Leia had been reticent, not wishing to risk its discovery.

"What's he gonna do if he does find it," Han had said, "tell the Council? I don't think so. Worst case, he finds it and disables it."

"And becomes more awkward because of it." Leia had said firmly.

"Could he _be_ any more awkward?" Han had growled.

Tag had shrugged, voice neutral, "He could take what he knows about Leia to the Council."

Han had rocked back in the chair he sat in, rubbing his face, frustration obvious. He was, she knew, painfully aware of the days counting down and like her, his thoughts were on what would happen when they reached zero.

Perhaps the only answer was to take this to trial; at least it would buy time. But some on the Council were beginning to whisper, as the first wave of shock died down; beginning to ask whether, in view of continuing reforms, a trial was the right course under any terms. And Force help her, but knowing that Luke had been pushing to start peace talks, Leia desperately wanted to stand by them.

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In a quieter moment, just before Leia had set out for the _Wasp_, the Intel Chief had again come forward, "I'm assuming you'll want to speak to him privately…"

Leia had glanced down; Tag was holding out a small anti-surveillance scrambler, about half the length of Leia's little finger and close to the same size round. Smiling, Leia pulled the smaller anti-surveillance device that Han had given her long ago from her pocket, "Snap."

"May I?" Tag took Leia's device and studied it, then held out the one she'd offered. "Take this one, it won't show up on any surveillance sweep unless it's active at the time, plus we know for a fact that it'll de-rezz _any_ surveillance equipment within about ten standard meters. Just press the button to activate or deactivate it—it's magnetic so you can place it or leave it just about anywhere onboard a ship. They'll know you have it the moment you start using it though."

"But if they admit that, then they admit they were trying to eavesdrop." Leia said, and Tag smiled approvingly.

"Hey, want a job in Intel?"

Leia took the small device, then paused; though she doubted they'd frisk the leader of the Alliance, putting it in a pocket wasn't an option, even small as it was. For a moment she dithered uncertain, then remembering, she lifted her hands and pushed it onto the inside of the wide hammered metal slide she wore pinned across the plaited bun of her hair, gathered at the nape of her neck. Now, when she wanted it working, she had only to reach up as if neatening her hair to push the button.

Tag took another step forward as Leia turned to go, "Ma'am? Here." She held out a small, short plexiglass sample syringe, the needle inset and still sealed. "Push it against his skin and slap the back. The needle will release and take a small sample."

Leia glanced up and Tag shrugged, "You want to be sure? This is sure. Don't let it out of your sight, and…" Tag shrugged again, "I'd probably ask first."

Leia had to smile.

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Now she passed into the main storage bay onboard the _Wasp_, where a huge dome had been roughly constructed from a jigsaw of interlocking blocks in some kind of composite Leia didn't recognize, a series of heavy flexible pipes set into its surface, trailing back to what looked to Leia like an industrial vacuum system, rattling on its heavy tubular mounts. It all looked ad-hock and out of place, a solid, cumbersome construction in the centre of the freighter's vast, empty hold.

She walked round its edge following her four guides, all of whom seemed unsettled at her appearance, so much so that Leia was beginning to wonder whether Madine—who hadn't yet bothered to show his face, though that was more of a relief than a snub—had told anyone of her impending arrival.

When they slowed, Leia frowned, confused; she was assuming they'd go round the dome and on into the living quarters…

One of Madine's men hit an industrial switch box roughly bolted into the dome beside a heavy door—and Leia realized she was looking at the construction they were using to keep Luke captive! This was a cell—this was his actual cell!

The door opened on a powered cycle and Leia motioned for the commandos to wait here, knowing they'd not allow anyone outside close enough to eavesdrop, then, squaring her shoulders, she set forward.

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.

In the locked cell, Luke sat tethered to the heavy table again, gritty, burning eyes intent on the locked door; they'd woken him at least a half-dozen times last night, each time shaking him awake and dragging him over to the table to force him to sit, tethering him to the hook set into it by the short, solid post that linked his wrist binders, then leaving him there, waiting, one guard always behind him to shake him awake if he tried to rest his head on the table. Within the hour they'd return, shake him upright and haul him back to the bunk... only to do the same thing again and again throughout the night and what was now presumably the following morning, though he had no real concept of time any more. It should have bothered him a lot more than it did, but Palpatine had used similar softening methods so often over the years that now the mental haze and vague dizziness which came with this kind of deprivation was, if not comfortable, then at least familiar enough that he knew what to expect when; this was only one night—he knew he could make three before the cramps started.

Still, this was the longest they'd left him sat at the table in the centre of the room and more interestingly this time he was alone, which left him torn between studying the exit before him which he was unable to reach at full-stretch when chained to the bunk, or simply laying his head down on the table to take even the briefest chance to sleep. But this was also the first time that they'd left the inner door to his cell open as they'd walked out, not bothering to reinstate the vacuum and locking only the outer one, giving Luke a clear view of the short, single-stride corridor which spanned the void between the inner and outer walls of the cell. He'd watched in silence as the heavy outer door closed with a reverberating clang, wondering what was different today; heard the dull thud of the door's substantial four-stage powered lock pushing home…and it came in a flash of realization;

Powered; the doors were powered—unlike the original, they had conventional locks…why?

He could see from where he sat that the short, confined corridor which separated the inner and the outer walls of his cell had the same large mechanized vents on its sides as the original on Coruscant, separating the short corridor from the larger void between the walls and enabling them to keep the wall void under vacuum and simply open or close the vents to pressurize or depressurize the short corridor between the two doors. It seemed, to all intents and purposes, the same as the cell beneath the Palace...so why have powered locks?

The original cell had relied on the massive force of the vacuum to hold the doors closed more securely than any lock, a method Palpatine had devised to stop Luke concentrating his abilities on forcing a conventional lock…so why this—why use a powered lock in a vacuum? Luke stared intently, aware that he was weaving just slightly with tiredness, mind going back again and again over the same facts… The vacuum; concentrate on the vacuum…the only explanation for the fact that the doors weren't being locked by the vacuum itself was that the vacuum was insufficient. Hadn't he thought that the very first time he'd woken here? He couldn't quite remember, his tired mind struggling to find a use for that fact; to remember every detail he could see so that… The staged lock released, the outer door opening again…

And Leia stepped into the corridor, tense and wired.

.

.

She saw him as soon as the door opened; saw him lift his head, saw his eyes widen… then everything else was lost beneath the shock of his appearance, dirty and bruised, a swollen lip and wide gash across the bridge of his nose which had spread to black one eye to the same side as that long, old scar. He wore a creased, faded flight suit, his dark hair ruffled into disarray, his wrists tethered... but when he saw Leia he straightened, eyes sharpening, as if it were any other meeting that they'd had, nothing more given away or allowed.

Watched in silence by him, his back straight, face completely unreadable, Leia stepped into the strange cell, two of Madine's troops following closely behind to take up positions to one side.

She turned to them, head held high. "You can go, it's alright."

The two troopers paused, uncertain. "Sorry Ma'am, we have orders from Madine to…"

"Now you have orders from me." Leia drew herself up to her full height, which was hardly imposing, but she'd been a diplomat and a leader all her life, and as Han took every chance to tell her, if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was hand out orders.

The stalemate held for a few seconds longer as Leia stared, expectant…then the nearer soldier glanced to his comrade, "C'mon. It's not like he's going anywhere."

For a moment Leia thought the second soldier would argue, but then he grinned, following followed his mate to the door, "Nowhere outside'a ninety meters, at any rate."

Leia remained still as they left, listening to their voices recede. Alone now, she paused, suddenly uncertain how to proceed. "May I sit down?"

Luke glanced briefly to the closing outer door behind her then to the security lens on the wall, clearly uncertain what was going on. After a few moments, Leia pulled out the chair opposite him to sit. Closer now, she could see how tired he was, how drawn. Could see the split in his swollen lip—and she realized that he was actually tethered to the heavy desk before him.

"I…came to see how you were."

"Seriously?" He seemed amused for a second, then gave a small smile and a tilt of his head, "I've been worse."

"Is there anything you need?"

"That you can give me? No."

Leia glanced down, "The intention is to have you stand trial on.."

"Yeah, Madine's explained to me exactly his intention."

Leia paused, taking in his obvious tiredness, his reticence, his wary confusion and awkward, intractable manner. She'd thought he would be different—but she supposed she should have known otherwise; she would be exactly the same in this situation…

_Exactly the same_… she was looking at her own brother, probably her twin. Leia had run over these facts a thousand times in the last few days, and slowly, it had all begun to make a kind of sense; that was why he'd protected her at the Patriot's launch over Coruscant years ago, that was why he hadn't simply arrested her and handed her over to Palpatine. Why it was her alone he'd wanted to speak to when he made first contact with the Alliance, why it was her he'd tried to win over, why… everything.

It all seemed so clear; it all made sense. Leia straightened, bracing herself, lifting her hand casually to straighten her hair…

"I've just deactivated their surveillance system. I don't know how long we'll have before they decide they don't like that and come in to make me leave."

Luke's mismatched eyes flitted briefly to the lenses, then to the closed outer door, then back to Leia, fine creases at their edges betraying his confusion.

Knowing they'd have little time, Leia rushed to explain. "You should know it's taken me four days of negotiation and rallying the Council to back Madine into a corner sufficiently to get this meeting. We're trying to get you transferred over to _Home One_, but Madine's…"

"Where am I now?"

"You're still on the _Wasp_."

"What's outside the cell?"

"Nothing. It's in the main hold—that's where they've built it."

"The soldiers—they're loyal to Madine, not to the Alliance?"

"I don't know…maybe. Probably, if it comes down to a fight."

"How many?"

"I don't know; I saw maybe twenty. Luke, I need to talk to you—"

"How did you get here?"

Leia frowned, "By shuttle—I travelled over from the _Verity_."

"Not _Home One_?"

"No, Madine won't let _Home One_ anywhere near you. We have to talk…"

"Were there other shuttles in the bay when you landed?"

"Luke, I know—I know the truth; about you—about us. Madine told me."

"You shouldn't believe a word Madine says." Luke dismissed automatically.

"I don't, but we'd kept a sample of your blood on our medical files. We tested it against mine. Luke I know who you are, who I am—and I want to know the rest. Tell me."

He shook his head, "You tell me… because I don't know what you're talking about."

"Where were you born, Luke?"

He almost laughed, "Alderaan, if you believe some people."

She stiffened, "Who?"

"What's going on? Where was I born—you know where I was born; Tatooine."

"No, you weren't, were you? The truth, Luke." He frowned just slightly, and Leia pushed on. "I already know part of it—I know I'm your sister."

Luke straightened, the binders at his wrists rattling against their anchor as he leaned back in his chair, eyes widening, his reaction sufficient to halt Leia………then he laughed. He just laughed, uncertainty and dismissal and genuine amusement in his face.

And slowly, as he quieted to a smile, Leia realized the truth; "You really don't know, do you?"

He shook his head, still smiling, "I really don't know what _to say_."

"Luke, we're brother and sister. I had the genetic tests done…three times."

"Just…" his smile was beginning to fall away, eyes narrowing in confusion, "I don't… why are you even saying this?"

Luke's voice was beginning to rise, his frown of confusion turning to an angry scowl, eyes flicking to the surveillance lens. "What is this, what are you trying to do?"

"I thought you knew…"

"Knew, knew what, that you had some bizarre scheme to.."

He half-rose, hands lifting, the binders rattling against their keep, and Leia had pushed her chair quickly back before she realized it, recoiling, body tensing as she rose.…

"Wait!" Luke tried to hold his hands out, but was again stopped by the restraints, and Leia froze, uncertain. Still, he sat quickly, hands palm-down on the table, consciously relaxing. "Please?"

Leia slowly pulled her own chair back to the table to sit, heart still pounding, as angry at herself for overreacting as she was at Luke for the same…

_The same._

She sighed, "Madine contacted me four days ago and told me you were my brother. I denied it too… but I had the test done. We're brother and sister—probably twins."

Luke was shaking his head in denial, "That can't be right—it can't be. You were from Alderaan—you're a member of the Royal Family."

"I was adopted, when I was just a few days old."

"This isn't…it can't be right." He tried again to lift his hands, this time to bring them to his face, and was jarred to an immediate halt by the binders.

Leia felt her heart crumple, watching him go through the self same doubts and bewilderment that she had, with nothing and no-one here to cushion the blow.

"Luke, I know this is hard to accept and I'm coming here with no proof, no explanation, nothing…but I promise you, on my life, this is true." He was still shaking his head, eyes wide now, his scowl melting into bewilderment and denial, but Leia held her ground. "The truth. What can I do to prove it to you?"

"You can't. I don't…" he stuttered to silence, staring at her.

"I have no answers, nothing but this, this one fact; we _are_ brother and sister."

"No…we can't be. Bad blood—this line is bad blood."

Leia frowned, uncertain. "Bad blood?"

Luke only shook his head, looking down, lost.

Leia sighed gently, "What can I tell you? What can I do to help you believe me? Luke, when they told me…I think some part of me always knew—can you understand that? Don't you feel the same? I should have seen it long ago—I did. I dreamed of you so often." She shook her head, "I should have known…I always saw you in my dreams… I saw the wolf howling in the moonlight and I thought…I don't know, I.."

"Wait—you saw a wolf, and the moon?"

Leia shook her head in apology, "I didn't know, I didn't _know_ you then…"

"It doesn't matter," he brushed it away, instantly focused, the change mercurial. "What else did you see?"

Leia shook her head, "They were just dreams."

"Some seemed so much more though, didn't they? Some you had over and over; some seemed so real…"

"…some." Her voice was small, uncertain now beneath the intensity of his attention.

"Tell me the others…tell me what you see?"

"I don't remember."

"Please?"

Leia hesitated, "I knew when you were coming for Mon—I _knew_!"

Those striking, mismatched eyes were locked on her, passionate and earnest and so completely Luke again in that moment, calling her on, drawing her in. "Tell me what you dream now—tell me _exactly_ what you see?"

Leia shook her head again, uncomfortable beneath this sharp attention. "Nowadays? Just… a ring…two rings, I suppose. And a sun." She hesitated and he nodded reassuringly, completely attentive as she continued. "Well, sometimes one sun, sometimes… it might be two, very bright; sunflares forming a corona around them… but I don't think… I don't get the impression that they're real. I don't know…it's just a dream."

"I can't…if I could just…" he brought his hands up to rub at his temples, but was forced to lean forwards, the binders that held him too short even for this.

For long moments his head remained down on the table, resting in his hands, and Leia's eyes were drawn by the wide blood stain which had spread and dried unheeded across the back of the old flightsuit's collar and down onto his shoulder, his hair matted by a scar to the base of his skull. Leia wanted so much to put her hand to his shoulder in reassurance, but something held her back.

When he looked up, there was wild hope and utter frustration in his eyes, "I could take you through it if I just had access to…" he shook his head again.

"…I hear words." Leia offered at last, hoping to sooth him. "Well, not hear…but not read either—I can't read the script but…I just _know_."

"Script—you see words…written?"

Did she? She hadn't thought about it before; it was only a dream. "I don't know, I think so, but not written; chiseled maybe…. cut into something, like stone."

.

Luke stared for long seconds, a weight so great pressing down on him that he could barely breathe, a singular stillness taking over him as he heard his own voice, muted and resigned, finally accepting. "It's a throne…was. The Sunburst Throne; two suns, mirrored opposites, one to the front, one to the back, surrounded by sunflares. There's a prophesy engraved onto it, hidden in the carvings—an old prophesy—that's what you're seeing. Part of it's in the shape of two circles, one interlocking the other."

Leia frowned, clearly uncertain why this meant so much to him.

"It's us." Luke said simply into her confusion. "That's what it always was; us. Twin suns. Twin rings, twin riddles."

She was part of that balance; the balance was within them, good and bad, dark and light, yin and yang. It was so obvious; so obvious…now that he was looking at that one final piece to the puzzle. Staring at her and scaring her with his own precarious, insular calm; he could see it quite clearly.

Palpatine's words whispered again, taunting;_ "What do you fear, Jedi? What do you see in the dark when your demons come?"_

"Bad blood…you can't be one of us Leia, you can't be. We're all bad blood."

Leia shook her head, "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Look at us! Look at Vader…my own father handed me over to the Emperor, knowing what he'd do! Do you want to claim part of that—part of that heritage?!"

Her huge hazel brown eyes widened and he knew instantly that the thought hadn't even occurred to her—perhaps she'd forgotten his admission of long ago, or dismissed it without another thought until this moment—but she rallied impressively, shaking her head, unwavering. "I think…the more I know you, the more I think that you do only what you perceive of as necessary."

With painful realization, Luke recognized the self-same thing he'd once accused Palpatine of with such derision; _"I believe you capable of anything in pursuit of your goals_."

Was he so very different now? Again Palpatine's accusations ran like a shiver through him, damning any possible future;_ "Bad blood…"_

"Yes, I do, and I always will…don't you see? That makes me the most dangerous wolf of all."

"Let me help you…"

"No—I'll drag you down with me, I swear I will."

"I don't believe you—I don't believe you'd do that."

He shook his head, "You're wrong, you're very wrong. I know you're looking at me and you're seeing the man you used to know…but he doesn't exist any more. He _doesn't exist_. I'm Sith, a Sith trained by Palpatine. No matter what you _think_ you see, that's what I am."

"But it's not _all_ that you are, is it?" Luke frowned, and Leia pushed on, "Because you were trained by Yoda too, weren't you—you said it yourself the last time we spoke, you said Master Yoda had trained you when General Kenobi had died. I know who Master Yoda was. My father—" she stumbled over the word, freshly uncertain, "my adopted father, Bail Organa, spoke of Yoda many times. He was a Jedi Master, one of the Council of Twelve. Didn't you say that yourself, that he was a member of the Jedi Council? If you trained with him, as you said, then you trained as a Jedi."

Luke glanced down without speaking as Leia leaned in closer, taking his bound hands in her own. "You said something else to me that day too; I remember it distinctly, because it was one of the first things that made me begin to question… You said, whatever else you were, you were still that man who wouldn't leave his friends to die on Bespin…and I believe you."

He hunched back, unable to pull his hands free, unable to make her understand. "You don't know...you don't know what I am…"

"Yes I do," Leia said with absolute conviction. "That's why I'm here."

.

Leia stared as Luke held her gaze for a long, long time, a myriad of thoughts flashing across his eyes quicksilver fast, discernible in the subtle changes on his bruised face as he struggled with inner demons.

When he finally spoke there was an urgency to his words, "Do you trust me?"

Leia paused, deeply unsettled—but she held his eye, "I want to—very much."

"Then keep the talks going, don't let them collapse because of this."

Leia frowned, "We can do that—I hadn't ever thought otherwise for…" she trailed off, realizing what he was saying; that he wanted her to keep the talks going even though he wouldn't be there.

He pushed on, giving her no time to react, "You _can't_ be involved in this! Cut Madine free, make an announcement today, distance yourself and the Alliance."

Leia recoiled, "No! Whilst he's one of us, I have at least some control over him—over this."

"Do you? You said it took four days just to see me. Leia, Madine will do what he wants, what he always intended. You have to back off from any connection to him; publicly distance yourself and the Alliance from his actions."

""Whilst he's one of us and we remain in contact, there's an opportunity to negotiate with him and help you…"

"He won't negotiate—he'll lay down demands and either you meet them or not. If you do, you'll have publicly backed him; become a part of this. Why would you even consider that?"

Leia glanced away, eyes troubled, and perhaps Luke did know Madine as well as he claimed, because he nodded now, voice low and rough. "Because of us. You said Madine told you about us…he's blackmailing you."

She looked to him, suddenly recklessly hopeful, "Maybe it doesn't matter."

"Who else knows?"

"Han, and my Intel chief, Commander Massa."

He nodded, looking down, eyes on his bound hands as he considered, mind clearly racing. "No-one can know—you'd lose control of the Alliance."

"Maybe I should just step down—."

Luke's eyes came to hers immediately, "No! No, absolutely not. What does he want?"

"He wants this to go to a military tribunal, which would give him complete control."

"And he's told you to back him so that it will, all above board and through the right channels?"

"I have fourteen days—nine now—to persuade the Council to vote in his favor." Leia glanced down, "I should let it go to trial; at least there's an opportunity to…."

"No—don't do it." He was absolutely, unshakable certain. "Going to trial will pull the whole of the Alliance in behind Madine's decisions. There'll be no difference in the public's eyes between Madine's actions and the Alliance's. You _have_ to remain separate for the talks to work."

Leia frowned, "What?"

"I don't have time to explain. You said you wanted to trust me—trust me on this. _Don't_ let it go to trial. He'll pull you all down with him because it'll be official Alliance policy. Right now, you still have a chance because if you publicly discharge and denounce Madine, then when he puts a gun to my head, it's _Madine_. You let this go to trial within the Alliance with Madine in command and it will still have only one possible conclusion, you know that—but then it'll be the _Alliance_, not the man. You _cannot_ be associated with this, or everything we're trying to achieve will be lost—and I won't give that up to him, I won't let him take that away."

"Luke, one way or another I have to let this go to trial—if I don't, I lose any control of Madine." Only now, speaking to Luke, watching his face and hearing his voice, did all this crystallize in Leia's head. Because here was Luke Skywalker sat before her, as strong and steadfast and absolutely committed to his greater cause as he'd ever been. She had to get him out—she _had_ to.

Luke shook his head, resolute. "You get involved in this and you'll never be able to step back from it, you'll always be tainted. You need to distance yourself right now, before it all blows up in your face. You need to go and not come back."

"No! I can help you."

"You want to help me?"

"Yes."

"Then find my ring."

Leia stopped in her tracks, her line of thought completely broken by his request. "… What?"

"My ring—my ring is gone."

It completely threw Leia; left her blinking rapidly, lost that he would be more concerned about this than his own predicament.

"It was perennium, with a blue stone—I always wear it; look for any image of me and you'll see it. The stone is worthless to anyone but me. The ring…" he hesitated, a frown taking his bruised features, "…it's the only thing I own which once belonged to my mother."

Leia stared for long seconds, heart wrenched by the restrained emotion in his quiet voice—and he didn't hide it, didn't look away but simply watched her, mismatched eyes made pale by dark-rimmed bruises he didn't even seem to notice—didn't seem to care.

"Who was she?" Leia murmured gently, her hands resting on his.

Luke glanced about, understandably reluctant considering his surroundings, "Another time perhaps. Can you help me? It's very important to me."

"I'll try, I promise."

"If you find it—don't let it go. My…your father gave it to your mother before we were born. Don't ever lose it."

The heavy door sounded as it ground through its staged lock release behind her, making Leia jump.

Luke glanced back, "Time's up."

As he said it he took her hand where it rested on his, fingers curling around hers and for a moment he held her…then he pulled away—as much as he could—for her safety, she knew.

On impulse, as the last bolt freed, Leia reached back and took the small anti-surveillance scrambler from her hair, handing it quickly down to his bound hands, "Here; a little privacy."

Luke glanced down, frowning.

"It's a scrambler; it's undetectable unless it's on," Leia said quickly, turning it over, "on, off; same button."

Given the tiny device, Luke floundered a second as the door lock came free, uncertain where to hide it...then he bobbed his head down to his tethered hands and put it in his mouth, sitting straight again by the time the soldier entered. Leia rose quickly, wishing to keep the guards' eyes on her and not Luke, but she needn't have worried; he was already the picture of still calm, face falling to blank neutrality, eyes focused on nothing.

Unable to stop herself in that moment that she reached the heavy door, Leia risked one final glance to Luke…and he winked, purple-bruised eyes gleaming defiantly.

.

.

Turning, Leia walked from the cell in silence, her Commandos falling into step behind her, Madine's soldiers either brazenly defiant or avoiding her eyes entirely. She was halfway back when she pushed her hands into her pockets her fingers brushing against the sample syringe that Tag had given her. For a split-second she silently cursed, breaking her stride…then a smile spread slowly as Leia walked down the corridor, shaking her head infinitesimally.

Because the truth was…the truth was she didn't need it. She knew.

.

.

Alone in the cell again, Luke waited until after the doors had locked, counting to twenty to give Leia time to be a reasonable distance away so that it would seem logical that whatever she had been using to block the surveillance inside the cell was now out of range, before moving the scrambler subtly about in his mouth, positioning it between upper and lower teeth to bite it gently, hearing and feeling the subtle 'click' as it deactivated.

When they came back into the cell minutes later, Luke felt a moment of blind panic that Madine might appear to ask him what he and Leia had spoken of when he still had the small scrambler in his mouth…

But the two soldiers simply released his binders from the table and manhandled him back to his bunk to tie his ankle chain there before walking out without a single word said, as they generally did.

Glancing once to the surveillance lens, Luke lay down and turned on his side, his back to the lens, to spit the scrambler out, leaving a few seconds more before he risked lifting his cuffed hands to take hold of it and gently slide it down over the edge of the canvas to the heavy A-frame metal that the canvas was stretched over. With the tips of his fingers, he slid the small device over the metal and placed it on the inside of the frame, safely away from prying eyes.

He should be thinking of the scrambler, he knew; of the door, of the unexpected locks—of how to combine these things and use them. But all he could think about was Leia's revelation. All he could think about was how this one fact could touch every part of his life.

Always, _always_ Palpatine had pronounced over and over again that Luke was, at his core, a creature of Darkness and so his best efforts could ultimately do nothing but fail. He was his father's son; how often had Palpatine thrown that at him as a condemnation.

Everything that he was, he had accepted based on Palpatine's assertions of lineage…claims that he had created Luke's father—his bloodline—to fulfill the prophesy. Created it of Darkness, and in doing so damned Luke and everyone else in it to the same. That was why they all held this unique connection, this attunement…this curse. They were _created_ _by Darkness_. How then, could they be anything else? How could anyone in this line be other than their nature?

Luke thought again of the ring; of the mother he never knew…

"_I loved her—very much."_ His father's words…

Palpatine had convinced Luke that because he was his father's son, he shared his father's destiny, and he couldn't forgive his father for that—nor himself. Couldn't ignore the fear that no matter what he did, Darkness would claim him because of it. Could remember with painful, pinsharp precision those unbalanced, chaotic, explosive days when he had felt himself slipping increment by increment and had cursed his father and his heritage and himself.

And now he held himself in check by holding back; by never stepping beyond the safe confines of tightly-controlled emotions. People said he was cold, withdrawn, reserved…and he was. Because the alternative was to give those emotions reign; give Palpatine's wolf room to run.

Those were the two options in his life.

And Mara— Mara he'd held at arm's length for so long not simply because he was wary to let her close again, but also because of the very real fear that he could hurt her; that because of what Palpatine had twisted him into he could, in some blind rage, turn on her before he knew what he was doing, his father's broken past a constant barb.

He knew that she wasn't afraid; that she'd lived all her days among wolves of one shade or another. But his words to her long ago had been a warning, not threat; _"If you put your hand out of a wolf, don't be surprised if it bites."_

That knowledge had held him from her for so long, fearing that he would destroy her and take so much more down with him in the spiral of self-destruction that would follow, as it had been for his father.

_Bad blood._

But Leia…something _good_ had come from his father's love of his mother.

Something good could be salvaged from his own forbidden love of Mara. Something good could be created—was being created at this minute.

Because Leia—Leia, who had the same cursed blood running through her veins—Leia was ethical and honorable, an incandescent beacon of light. Leia, his sister, his twin, his blood; Leia was good—and her blood ran in his veins. Could he claim some part of that?

He thought again of his father, of the connections that ran too deep to ever harbor conditions or constraints. Beneath everything else, every frustration, every accusation, every fear of Palpatine's assertions and predictions, Vader was still his father… and Luke was still proud to have known him.

He did, in the last, love his father… and _that_ was in his blood too.

"_Bad blood…"_ Palpatine's endless accusations ran again like a shiver through him, damning any possible future.

He had always sworn that the one thing he would never give Palpatine was the continuation of this contaminated bloodline…but now Mara had taken that choice from him, and his deepest fears were becoming real. Only not so, because if Leia was his sister…if Leia was his sister, she wasn't tainted. He knew that absolutely.

And where did that leave Luke in his condemnation of this line; in his desire to end it with himself? The bloodline wasn't tainted—Leia was proof of that. She wasn't doomed to a failure of conscience, he _knew_ that. Nothing was written. It was all lies, by the man who had lived by them and died by them.

The future of his unborn son hadn't been decided by the self-serving actions of a bitter old man; he would come into this galaxy as every other child did, free and new and untainted; unclaimed by destiny or providence. He would make his own way, cut his own path in life, live by his own actions. It was dizzying, this release. This reprieve. It tilted the universe on its axis, it brought light to the deepest, darkest shadows.

Now the responsibility he'd placed upon himself to end this bloodline was not only irrelevant, but out of his hands; Leia would live, even if Luke died here, and she wouldn't be bound by any of his beliefs. The decision was taken out of his hands…in every possible way, it was out of his hands. Mara was having his child, continuing the legacy he'd sought to end, but even if that weren't so then Leia would probably do the same one day. And his child...his son had the same limitless potential that every other newborn had, a galaxy of possibilities and a lifetime to choose and achieve them.

He smiled, tired, knowing they'd come for him soon, shake him awake and drag him back to the table to start demanding and dictating and chastising again, but right now…Luke let out a slow breath and studied the moment, remaining silent and still for fear of breaking it.

It was out of his hands…and the only thing he felt was utter relief.

It pulsed through him, a monumental victory handed to him with no idea of its depth or scale by the sister he never knew he had, simply by existing.

Even here, even now; nothing could take this moment from him.

This triumph.

.

Save for one fact, one knowledge which burned through him and dragged him mercilessly back to this small cell and its bleak, grim reality.

Because he very much doubted he'd ever get the opportunity to take this reprieve back to the one person he wanted to tell, the one person he wanted so desperately to share this new future with;

Mara.

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	38. Chapter 38

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Mara sat in the War Cabinet, staring at the holo-maps as Arco and Joss summed up the vast expenditure of available resources, both visible and unseen, which was being mobilized.

Six days; six days, and all they knew for sure was where Luke _wasn't_. They had no leads, no hits. Every tip-off tapered to nothing, every whisper a dead end.

One ship—assuming he was even still on it—one ship in a galaxy of stars and planets and satellites and clusters and nebulae and asteroid belts and gas clouds. And whatever you'd searched, search it again twenty-five hours later because all yesterday's Intel was already out of date. Every informer they brought in knew nothing, every agent drew a blank, every contact, every organization. Time; everyone needed more time; give them a month, they said, six weeks with their ears to the ground and maybe, just maybe…

But if Reece was to be believed, Mara didn't have a month; she probably didn't even have half that any more. And the days ticked down. This was a job inside a job inside a job; even the Rebels didn't seem to know their own affairs between individual groups. They could spend a month chasing down individual Rebel units trying to get close to the right one for even a single nugget of intel, could commit massive portions of the fleet to tracking them, and they may still know nothing. Where did you look? How did you track down groups who had made it their life's work to remain hidden? How did you track down a group who gambled their lives daily on their ability to remain untrackable? They were too spread, to diverse. No one group knew exactly what the other was doing, only the main command frigate of _Home One_ coordinating and synchronizing with the wider picture in hand, and as search for that single ship she may as well search for the _Wasp_.

Every day they held meetings of the senior staff, morning, late afternoon and late evening, where the advancements of the day—however few—were summed up and the next step decided…and the hours ticked down, and the meetings went on.

Kiria D'Arca had appeared at the first briefing following Mara's sarcastic invitation days ago, and attended every single one since, the very picture of steadfast concern. And much as Mara had wanted to eject her, she was well aware of the fact that it was she who had invited her—not seriously, but of course D'Arca would take her at her word and call her on it if Mara said something now.

She pursed her lips, returning her gaze to the holographic starchart floating above the table; she really needed to stop making off-the-cuff comments—apparently you weren't allowed to be sarcastic when you were Regent; everyone took everything you said exactly at you word.

Annoyingly—or thankfully, depending on Mara's given mood at any moment—D'Arca had performed her role flawlessly to date, disguising the Emperor's absence in accordance with Mara's wishes, however much she privately disagreed. The decision had already been made not to go public with this, though convincing D'Arca had been less straightforward; she'd wanted to go to the Royal Houses; to open it up beyond Intel and military Command level, claiming the necessity to make everyone understand just what exactly was at stake. Even when she'd relented, she'd still managed to get one last well-aimed snipe in, stating that she could well understand that it would be a little embarrassing for those present at Kwenn; one simply didn't announce that one had _lost_ the Emperor.

Still, when she'd finally consented it had been completely, attending state functions and appointments and generally—surprisingly—making every effort to stabilize the situation.

And as it turned out, stabilizing the Empire seemed her forte. Because D'Arca was quite the strategist—in political terms. She had neither interest in nor a flair for the military, and deferred to Mara's organization of the fleet and rallying of Intel without the slightest reluctance. But in political terms, she had a sharp eye and a razor mind for putting out any number of little fires that Mara, short on both temper and diplomacy at the very best of times—which this was not—would have solved by simply having everyone involved, prominent, influential, high-ranking or whatever, arrested and thrown in the detention centre to let Luke sort out later if he… _when_ he came back.

So they complimented each-other, D'Arca and Mara. And Mara couldn't help but wonder what was being whispered in the mirrored halls of the vast Palace about this new development, by the very few who knew the truth; the woman whom everybody suspected was the Emperor's consort, and his official wife, the Empress, sat at the same table, holding his Empire together in his absence…no matter how reluctantly.

Decisions made and assets reassigned, the meeting broke up, serious, eyes down, lost in thought. No-one had the answers—not in the timescale needed. Tired to the bone, Mara set off back to Luke's apartments in the South Tower, Nathan in tow, still withdrawn and insular as he had been since this had started, silently enduring his own private nightmare, lost in his own world of guilty misery.

And Mara had no idea what to say to him. Tired and numb, stomach churning, fast reaching the point where she didn't know which was worse; knowing nothing, or knowing the truth.

Finally, after long minutes passing in silence, Mara tried a half-hearted line, "Have you eaten yet?"

He shook his head without looking up, and they walked on for easily a minute before he said quietly, "Not since breakfast. You?"

It had become such a rarity for him to speak that Mara turned and just stared for a few seconds, taken aback, before finally shaking her head, "No. Not really hungry. My stomach's tied in knots."

He glanced to her, voice knowing, "Have you gotten any sleep yet?"

She shook her head, "No—you?"

"A few hours," he said distantly. "If you want something to help…"

"No," Mara said firmly. The truth was that she was afraid that even a minute missed may be the difference between life and..

Nathan sighed, saving Mara from following that thought to its conclusion.

"You should get some rest Mara, otherwise you'll be no help to anyone. Why don't you drop in now—I can give you something?"

They were in the North Tower and close to Nathan's little-used medi-bay, so Mara nodded, relenting.

.

In the familiar territory of his office Nathan became, as ever, the consummate medic, already taking the tablets from his small, locked wall store. "I'll give you pro-poxyl. I can reverse the effects instantly with a shot if need's be."

He handed over the small tablets and filled a beaker of water, passing it over at the same time as he took the handheld medical scanner from his desktop, automatically running a scan.

Mara threw the tablets into her mouth and lifted the beaker—and Nathan reached unexpectedly out to hold it back.

"Have you swallowed them?"

There was something in his tone that stopped the fractious reply on Mara's lips.

"Spit them out," Nathan said quickly. "Now."

Complying, Mara scowled, looking to the tablets. "Nathan, what the hell?"

He didn't even acknowledge Mara's sharp tone, more interested it seemed, in taking a second scan...then a third.

Finally, he put down the scanner and walked to the door, glancing down the empty corridor and closing it on Clem's bodyguards, who waited a discrete distance away at the medi-bay doors. When he turned back to Mara he seemed suddenly more alert than she'd seen him in days.

"Okay…alright….." Nathan hesitated a long time, as if uncertain how exactly to continue. "… before I tell you this, I need you to do two things."

Mara stared for long seconds before shaking her head slightly, forcing patience. "Fine, whatever."

Nathan pulled out his own chair at his desk, "First, I think I need you to sit down here. Then I need you to promise to me that when I tell you this, you'll _remain_ sat down."

Mara narrowed her eyes but sat, watching Nathan walk around to the far side of the desk. He hesitated a few seconds more, perching on the edge of the desk—and Mara could _swear_ he was calculating the distance to the door. When he turned back to her he had that fretful, familiar smile which he had perfected long ago, rather like a small animal in a speeder's headlights, finally said timorously, "...Congratulations?"

Mara stared at him for long seconds, too tired for riddles. When she finally blinked several times, shaking her head, it was hardly the most coherent reply, "… What?"

"Congratulations."

Mara started to rise, but Nathan held out his hand as he stood, backpedalling as if he might make a hasty retreat to the door, one hand out. "Ah-ah! Sit, sit, sit!"

"Okay, I'm done with the games, what the hell are you talking about?" Mara glared at Nathan, not in the mood for this. But he simply stared back, silent, willing her to understand…and slowly, the truth dawned.

She sat back down heavily, jaw loose, mouth open in shock, no idea what to say or what to feel, emotions crushing in. She actually felt the blood drain from her face, leaning forward, elbows on the edge of Nathan's desk to cover her face with her hands, "Ohh…"

"So…I'm guessing that my supposition that this wasn't the tiniest bit planned is correct, then?"

Mara moved one finger aside to glare at Nathan through her hands, "What do you think?"

He half-shrugged apologetically, "I don't know; it's not the kind of information I'm called on to hand out very often."

"No—no, no." Mara was rallying now, "No, I was careful."

Nathan shrugged, "I'm sure you were. You're also young and you're healthy and sometimes nature is just as determined to remain unbound as modern medicine is to contain it."

"No wait, seriously…" she ran out of words, simply shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, but no matter how many times you say no, it's still a yes. You're pregnant—around eight or nine weeks, I'd guess, though it's not really my area of expertise. I would recommend someone but…" he glanced away then back, "given the…present situation, I'm not really sure this is the kind of information that should go any further right now."

A whole new flood of implications came rushing in on Mara when she hadn't even begun to process the first set, and still she had no idea what she should _be_ in this moment, what she should feel. Though she was pretty damn sure that the far-reaching repercussions of Kiria D'Arca's reaction shouldn't be what was playing loudest in her mind right now.

Aware of Nathan's eyes on her Mara looked up, but the only expression on his face was grave, heartfelt concern, "So what do you want to do?"

A wave of emotion flooded through Mara in that moment, instant and overwhelming; a driving, bone-deep desire to protect that which just moments ago she hadn't even known existed. "I sure as hell hope you can keep a secret, Nathan Hallin."

A slow smile spread over his face and in that moment he was the blithe, self-effacing charmer again. "You have no idea how many I already keep, Mara Jade."

She almost smiled... and just like that, when she'd thought she couldn't possibly miss Luke more, a whole new level of grief and desperate ache assaulted Mara. More and more, she'd found herself in the last few days making endless pacts with the Fates in which she didn't even believe. Any price; she'd pay _any price_ to get him back and she knew it.

Now she wanted him back so desperately not just for herself, but also for their child…

_Their child_—it seemed a terrifying prospect, on every possible level.

Because now she needed Luke back not just for herself and for the Empire, but also to protect their baby. She could and damn well would protect it herself of course, but not in the way that she could with Luke at her back; Luke would protect its heritage and its birthright—and it would need protecting in that way, or it would instantly become a means for and against others' ambitions.

Her mind raced to analyze that; think what would have happened if Reece had not been caught; if his plotting hadn't been discovered but had still been successful. D'Arca of course, would always defer to Luke if he were alive but…

Mara paused a second in her realization of that; at how natural and how obvious it seemed in that moment, like a curtain falling. As long as Luke was alive, D'Arca _would_ defer to his choices, Mara _knew_ that. But if he were gone…D'Arca was strong and smart and she marshaled the support of the Royal Houses; she was Empress, after all.

It would take Luke's uncompromising influence to hold her and the ambitions of the House D'Arca at bay; to make sure that the child's future was secure.

Then again, did Mara even want their child to have this life; the existence that Luke led now, laced with endless burdens and demands and danger? The fact was that their child was already in mortal danger, and it hadn't even been born.

_Their child._ Mara straightened slightly, pursing her lips, "So what do we do now?"

"You know, I have no idea."

"You're not filling me with confidence here, Nathan."

"Don't worry, I can pull out some reference…"

Mara arched an eyebrow, "Hey, _I_ can pull out some reference."

He affected his time-honored mix of injured pride and self-righteousness, "Yes, but I'd know what I was reading—I did do a medical doctorate. We cover this."

"You're sure now?""

"Very sure, thank you. It's just that I'm the kind of physician who's usually called upon to set bones and suture things and generally tell the Emperor that whatever he did this time was a patently unreasonable risk—."

He broke off, realizing too late what he was saying, and Mara returned her head to her hands, regret and elation and fear and grief all washing through and over her one more time.

"We'll get him back, Mara."

She shook her head, breath leaving her in a low sigh. "I just…in the hangar on that damn freighter, he said—he said he was banking on me, to find him and get him out.

"He knows that you'll do all you can Mara—that's all he expects of…"

"No, that's not what I mean," Mara interrupted. "I mean…I mean he doesn't trust me, I know that—I know he doesn't trust me, so why say it?"

Nathan shook his head, "Mara, the one thing he's spent his life trying to do is pull this Empire into some kind of accord; everything he's done and everything he's hoped and everything he's endured has been towards that. It has always, in all the time I've known him, been the greater part of his life and he would do anything to achieve it and everything to protect it—and now he's placed it in your hands. Now tell me again that he doesn't trust you."

"But why would he…" a stray thought locked into place, and Mara truly didn't know whether to laugh or cry; Luke, pushing her away to safety onboard the Wasp, knowing he'd be caught; buying her freedom with his own—then he'd whispered, a grin on his face; _"Mara! Anakin—his name should be Anakin."_

He'd known. He'd _known_, and he gave her that moment, that knowledge, that blessing. She wanted to shout, to cry, to laugh—to get him back here, right now. Because she was damned if she'd let him miss this. Their child would have a father who would love and protect it with the all the innate paternal commitment that she knew Luke would give so readily. But if…if Luke didn't come back…then she would be everything for it. She would be everything that she knew now had flashed across those vivid mismatched eyes when he'd looked to her one final time with such faith and passion.

"_Anakin—his name should be Anakin."_

Mara looked to Nathan, hearing her own voice break, "It's a boy, isn't it?"

"How did you know?"

"Luke knew."

Nathan frowned, uncertain, "He knew?"

Mara nodded, pursing her lips against the tears that were locking her throat even as her lips brought forth a smile. "Smartass," she croaked, then could say no more.

.

.

.

.

Luke lay on his side on the bunk, still considering the new direction that everything—_everything_ had taken after Leia's revelation yesterday. Trying to assimilate it, to somehow fit it into his larger plans without compromise.

For Leia to admit publicly that she was his sister now, at this moment and under these conditions, would damage her reputation irrevocably—and with it any chance Luke had to hold together the moderate majority in the Alliance and reintegrate it into the Empire.

Because that one fact remained; his goals hadn't changed; he had to remember that. He had more immediate problems, but just because he was chained up in a cell, his goals hadn't changed.

"_Take control, Jedi. Use those around you; anyone, everyone, always, no matter what."_

He'd always intended to separate Madine off from the Alliance at some point, always known that the General was the extremist of the Council; that he and his supporters would stand in the way of every step towards unification that Luke took. But then he'd long used it too; used Madine to help polarize the Alliance, _intending_ for it to split into two factions, the moderates and the radicals.

The Empire could never simply accept the Alliance back into its folds as it stood; the propaganda machine that was Palpatine's Empire had seen to that. But if Luke could separate off the moderates from the radicals in the minds of the populous and represent the moderates as a political rather than a militant body then under the right conditions he thought he could reintegrate them—and with them the best aspects of the Old Republic—without further bloodshed. And it would give every single member of the Alliance the chance to act as their conscience dictated; the opportunity to stand behind Leia and a political force for change; to take that chance on peace.

But for that, Leia _had to_ remain unconnected to Luke, otherwise her credibility among those from whom she was already asking so much would be lost. Everyone would see this simply as an Imperial conspiracy from the very beginning; see Leia as a plant who had always worked towards this goal. But if she did as he had asked and told no-one…he wished he'd had more time to explain—but then he would have needed to reveal everything, and this wasn't the time or place to try to convince her of his long-term intentions.

He didn't expect everyone to agree anyway of course; but what would be left would be the extremists, those who were so zealous that they would never accept a truce in any form—and that was where Madine came in, a ready-made die-hard militant for them to gather round. Luke was giving them a choice, but it was an either-or choice; back a peaceful solution or realize just how extreme the alternative was.

Because whatever remained, with Madine at its head it would be a truly seditious faction, a vastly-reduced and aggressively radical minority who would soon be marginalized and ostracized. The inconvenient, anarchistic extreme which existed at the fringes of any evenhanded society; the price for true freedom.

But first of course, he needed to push Leia and her supporters into that political stance in the eyes of the rest of the galaxy—and that was a little difficult to do from the inside of a Rebel cell.

Luke could split the Alliance, he knew he could; he'd already pushed it so far along that path that it would need only the smallest nudge, and the events of the past week were hardly that. The problem, in fact, may be to hold enough of it together through the coming changes. But Leia was smart and savvy; he had every faith in her ability to hold onto that which was worth saving; he always had.

What he sought now was the other side of that plan, the one thing that he'd always needed; something to unite the Empire, public, political and military. Something which would pull them all into a single accord, enabling him to direct all that attention where _he_ chose. Too much of his old Master was left, shaping people's thoughts and perceptions, and he had to move it away from totalitarianism, from an Empire and Alliance constantly at odds. Without that one uniting element he couldn't move forward, he knew that, so he'd long been searching for something to pull the Empire into a single mind, a single accord; something for them to gather behind. Now events had overtaken him—he smiled fractionally at that; his old Master would have criticized and derided him endlessly for 'allowing' it.

It was time to correct that fault; that he had to do it from here wasn't ideal, but this was all he had, and though he had no way to influence or change Leia's stance right now, he suddenly found himself with access to the opposite side of this equation; Madine.

Madine; a dinosaur; a relic from the past who, like Palpatine, had no real place in the future Luke intended. Which made him a pawn to be played, as far as Luke was concerned. And yes, right now Madine was holding all the cards, but the last year and a half notwithstanding, Luke was used to being the underdog, used to operating from this position, everything to play for and no fallback if things went wrong; another lesson well taught by his old Master.

It was Palpatine who had summed it up best when he had said that anything of worth came at a price; that the first thing one must be prepared to sacrifice to any true goal was oneself. Because of Palpatine that Luke held, as ever, the one card that his opposition seemed always unwilling to play.

He'd lived so long like this that it was comfortable, like being in the company of an old friend; a familiar buzz, a heightening of senses, a sharpened resolve. He wasn't afraid to die—as strange as it sounded, he truly wasn't; Palpatine had taught him that with his endless, grinding games—but he'd be damned if he did it on someone else's terms.

Dinosaur though he was, Madine was undoubtedly the master strategist, capable of laying plans months in advance, of organizing single operations or huge campaigns to the n'th degree. But Luke wouldn't fight him on those terms. Couldn't; not here and now. Madine had already allowed Luke to shape the game more than once in subtle ways; to lay the rules, to force the fight on his terms. And those terms were all or nothing, close quarters, thinking on your feet—because here, that was all he had.

Already, after only days here with him, Luke knew that the General had a short temper, and methodical, regimented forward-planners with short tempers didn't do well under pressure; in the heat of the moment, forced to think on their feet, they had a tendency to crack spectacularly. Madine may be the master strategist given time to plan, able to think of and prepare for a hundred possible scenarios, but Luke was willing to bet that if he could come up with something outside of that box, Madine would have no immediate answer.

And as he had with Palpatine, Luke knew he had only one chip to play; himself. But he knew all too well how to play that game; he knew how to take those hits then turn them against their aggressor. All or nothing; it was the only way to play the game.

Truth was that the moment Madine had captured him, Luke was dead. His life was already forfeit. He remembered with pinpoint clarity, even now, the vision—that vacant bubble held about him where the Force did not exist; within it himself and seven men, blaster rifles held at shoulder height, unerringly aimed. Remembered the shout to fire; the fury which fuelled it, remembered jerking back in shock as the word became an action and everything shattered and burst.

Remembered Madine's words that first time he'd entered this cell; _"…this small man will be the death of an Emperor then, because there's only one way this will end; whatever happens, you die."_

Last time, in a cell so similar to this with Palpatine, Luke had failed—he'd fallen.

He heard again Palpatine's words, spoken with such taunting provocation in that cell, _"What do you fear, Jedi? What do you see in the dark when your demons come?"_

Incensed and harried and bordering on the very edge of reason, Luke had turned the question on his tormentor, hissing out the challenge, desperate to wound, if only with words; with insight_—"__I know what you see in the darkness because it burns when you look in my eyes. I know what you see in the dark when your demon comes... I know that it's me."_

What Luke didn't admit, would never have given Palpatine the satisfaction of knowing, was what he saw when his own nightmares merged with Force-lit visions. What he'd realized even then; what he saw in the darkness when his own demon howled…

Last time, Palpatine had won; Luke knew that—but not until he was truly devoid of any other choice. Last time, they'd had to carry him out, because they'd held him and persecuted him for so long that he was incapable of walking. Another week, and they would've taken him out in a casket. This time he wouldn't fail, because the man they'd locked onto that cell wasn't the same one who came out of it. This time he'd damn well walk out of here.

Everything, every experience, every stumbling block, could be of use; even his failure. Even that, he'd turn into a strength. Because Madine wasn't Palpatine—he wasn't even close. Just as he'd been in the Empire, he was a thug who'd tacked himself onto a bigger cause and Luke was damned if he'd fall before that—if he'd surrender all he'd committed toward building. Anything and everything, he would use it…even those dark times with Palpatine would give him the strength and the insight to hold out; even those, he'd finally pull something of value from, to stop Madine. And if he had to, if all else failed…he'd turn to that demon waiting in the darkness.

Glancing to the security lens on the wall, Luke turned slowly over on his bunk, the chain about his now heavily-blistered ankle dragging, its weight pulling against his movement as he turned his back to the lens. They'd kept the lights on full since the night before Leia's visit, still shaking him awake every few hours and hauling him over to that table to tether him. Now, with his back to the lens, Luke was able to slide his hand between the edge of the canvas bunk he lay on and the heavy metal frame; still magnetised to the angle-iron frame where he'd put it yesterday was the small anti-surveillance scrambler Leia had given to him. He didn't activate it; it was too soon after her visit. But he brushed his fingers over it, a reassurance that it was still there. He had no plan as yet, no way to pull the disparate facts together…but he was still thinking as he his eyes closed...

He had no idea how long he'd slept before the door opened with that same ear-popping inrush of air. Luke was hauled up, the metal cuff on his ankle carving new gouges into his skin from the weight of the chain as they dragged him over to the table again, his arms pressed down until the bar between them had snapped into the small receiver bolted to the centre of the heavy desk.

This time Madine walked coolly in, nodding to the three men, who backed off a few steps behind Luke's field of view as another two took up position to either side of the door, one of them pausing to drop a third hard chair to one side of the table.

Madine sat, placing a vo-corder on the table before him as Luke glanced to the third chair without comment before turning back to him. It was a long time before either spoke, Madine finally making the move, but then Luke felt no pressing need to move the interrogation session forward.

"Your…" Madine glanced fractionally to the side, then back to Luke, "_supporter_ doesn't appear to be coming through for you as you might have hoped after her little visit…and here I was keeping you all safe and healthy."

Luke remained silent, internally logging the fact that his relationship to Leia wasn't common knowledge, even here—but then why would he think for one moment that Madine would wish to share his little nugget of power? Not that Luke was complaining; he wanted it kept quiet as much as Madine did—except that Madine would out it eventually; right now it wasn't in his interest to do so because knowledge was power, but there'd come a time when he could gain by more by speaking out the facts than by withholding them.

"I'd expected her to work a lot harder on your behalf," Madine continued smoothly. "Seems the only person who's keeping you alive isn't keeping up to her end of the bargain. Which is a very dangerous thing…for you. Particularly since I promised I'd have plenty of evidence to present to the next Council meeting to indicate that a trial would move smoothly to the right verdict—maybe even a full confession."

Luke remained silent, still trying to fathom the way that this particular session would go as Madine leaned back, casually assertive, hands clasped one fist inside the other before him. "Seems you've also been a little busy yourself in the last few days, spreading rumors among my men. I don't appreciate that."

_Tam_, Luke realized, half-smiling, split lip still tender. _That_ was why he hadn't been back. "Rumors, truth…it's all the same to you Madine, isn't it? Do you even know the difference in your own head any more? Does it…"

Madine brought both fists down onto the table with a heavy _thud_, silencing Luke. "No, we're done with these little lectures. From now on, we talk about what _I_ want to talk about and nothing else. From now on, you keep your mouth shut unless I ask you a question."

Luke heard the boot steps of the troopers moving closer behind him and tensed, though nothing happened. For a few moments they stared at each-other in silence.

" _Futility Approach_." Luke finally said, keeping his own voice calm, aware that lines were being drawn. "'_I can make this very uncomfortable for you and you can't stop me'_—or how about the, _'This can only end one way so why not make it easier on yourself' _threat. You might get some mileage out of the method, assuming that I hadn't read a dozen papers on its use as an interrogation technique. But we both know it'll take time, and with near enough the whole Imperial military and I'm guessing a pretty unexpected amount of Alliance leaders on your back, you strike me as a man on a tight timetable."

"What makes you think anybody's looking for you, Imperial or Alliance…other than a body, of course."

"Really? You want to try this line of approach? I would have led with that two days ago perhaps, but asking a man who you're now claiming is thought to be dead, to read out a confession clearly garnered _after_ Kwenn is a bit of a slip. As is letting the leader of your own Alliance in here to talk to me." Luke gave an empty smile as he set his head on one side, "...it is still your Alliance isn't it—they haven't thrown you out yet?"

"I wasn't saying that people believe you died at Kwenn. I was simply saying we can kill you any time we want."

"ISF; _Increased Stress and Fear._ You want to go through the list? You've probably read the same papers on interrogative techniques that I have, back when you were an Imperial. Mine'll be a little more up to date, but knowing you, I'm sure you've kept your hand in. Let's go through them, shall we? _Direct approach_; doesn't seem to be working yet and since I know that if I actually do read out your statement it's my death warrant, it's not very likely to. Obviously you can't use an _Incentive approach_, for the same reason, and really the _Emotional approach_ is clearly not gonna work. _Pride and ego_—worth a try if its information you're after, but I'm hardly likely to be goaded into telling you anything just to prove my own worth. _Increased Stress and Fear_? I'm sure you'll get to that; we've already had a few testings of the water. _Deprivation techniques_…same thing, but we both know they'll take more time than you have, won't they? _Establish a False Identity_? Can't really threaten me with the fact that you suspect I'm anyone higher up and therefore more accountable that I actually am, so that's a dead end. _Friend and Foe_—I'll just laugh right now when I mention it, and that'll save you the embarrassment of trying. _Silent Approach_? Already blown that one… Have I missed any?"

"File and Dossier." Madine said coolly, and Luke tipped his head.

"Not on purpose I assure you. No psychological slip-up…but feel free to try it."

"Why am I not surprised that you know all this." Madine too was playing to the audience of soldiers scattered about the room now, but for him this was a new technique; for Luke, playing to the larger audience whilst speaking to one man was a way of life. So he shrugged slightly now,

"I read. I've read about you too, in Imperial files. You read like more of a…hands-on learner."

"I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty for what I believe in if that's what you mean—unlike you.

Luke shook his head, "Oh no, you can't have it both ways Madine. You can't accuse me of undercover infiltration into your own unit and then tell me I never get my hands dirty—" Again Madine slammed his hands down forcibly, but this time Luke didn't even pause, "Or are they both true in your own head? Anything that serves your—"

Madine's eyes flicked to a spot just behind Luke, and a heavy blow landed against the side of his skull from behind, the force snapping his head to the side. Luke straightened slowly, dizzy from the wrenching strike.

Madine watched, unmoved, head to one side, "Let me explain again; No more little lectures, we're through with those. We talk about what _I _want to talk about and nothing else. When you talk, it's because you're answering _my_ question. Step outside of that rule, and bad things will happen."

"Old games." Luke said, shaking his head. "These are old games Madine. I've used them and had them used on me too many times. Tying me down every time you come in, having men stand out of my line of sight, no sleep, leaving me sat here for hours then coming in and staring in silence. I'm surprised you haven't had me stood against that wall in a stress position."

"Old games?" Madine nodded again to one of the soldiers behind Luke, and he braced… but the man walked silently past him and to the cell door, comlink to his mouth.

Uncertain, Luke glanced back to Madine, who simply stared, that mocking half-smile on his face, waiting…

Luke forced himself to breathe slowly, every muscle taut, aware that they were taking their time on purpose, playing on his nerves. Eventually the doors ground open and a military medic wearing fatigues walked into the room carrying a medi-case. He stopped by the table, handing something quickly over to Madine, who dropped it onto the table before him, locking Luke's lungs in recognition.

It was a syringe, a dirty brown liquid within.

Madine smiled, knowingly. "Then let's start a new game, shall we?"

Luke's eyes stayed on the syringe as Madine continued, coolly confident. "Pharmacokinetics; Imperial. We've made quite a little cocktail just for you. Kalter here has done a lot of work on it; you could say it's his specialty. Amo-tricliptidine he tells me, combined with a little something special just to be sure it works—something kindly provided one of your own people. SK-17; I'm told that's the only name it has. Recognize it?" Madine glanced once at Luke's hands on the table, tightening to fists. "I see you do. And the tricliptidine, that's always been an Imperial favorite, hasn't it? Kalter chose it with care. Kalter?"

The medic had sat on the third chair, not looking up, his voice distracted, preoccupied as he was with arranging the tools of his trade on the table. "Has a half-life of approximately one hundred and sixty minutes per dose. It affects the G protein, blinds serotonin receptors and increases amplitude and decay time of inhibitory postsynaptic currents. Induces intense psycho-physical reactions. Symptoms are variable and include decreased lung function, nerve and muscle spasms, tremors, severe cramps and seizures due to hypoxia, hypothermia, pathological cognitive confusion, distortions in perceptions and loss of identity. All increased if recipient is in a hostile environment, depending of course on the dosage and tolerance. Higher doses can cause overwhelming cognitive shifts. Those who've been administered it over several days say this particular drug has flash-back effects lasting years."

The medic trailed off, squinting at his apparatus, seeming more concerned with making sure that all the items were laid out in perfect parallel than anything else.

Madine smiled tightly. "It also makes you tell the truth, but then I'm guessing you knew that; it's an Imperial drug after all."

Luke leaned back just slightly, adrenaline kicking his heartrate into high gear, and Madine settled, leaning one elbow on the table. "I presume I have your attention now?"

The medic Kalter dragged his chair closer beside Luke, still without once looking at him. Luke glanced briefly, then turned deliberately away as the man assembled vein catheters and an old, portable medical scanner.

"Do you have any medical conditions?" the medic asked finally as he worked. "Are you taking or do you have in your system any other drugs at present? Are you aware of any member of your immediate bloodline who is prone to seizures? Are you aware of any member of your immediate bloodline who died as a direct result of an aneurism?"

Luke didn't look; kept his eyes on Madine, who held that mocking half-smile to the edges of his lips. Two men closed in from behind and pinned Luke's arms and shoulders, though he didn't resist; right now, what was the point?

He felt the prick of the needle in the back of his left hand; felt it drag as the pressure changed and the catheter was taped down. Felt the men grip tight against him as the syringe containing the brown fluid was threaded into the catheter. Felt it bloom through his veins, incredibly warm…

The world did one slow, nauseating loop and Luke felt his head rock slightly as he blinked slowly, the drug burning like wildfire. He could feel himself start to rock in an effort to remain upright against failing muscles, feel the buzz as a metal band seemed to tighten within his brain.

"Breathe slowly," the medic said, unconcerned. "Don't hyperventilate."

Everything was becoming more distant now, the pain in Luke's chest increasing by the second. The task of remaining upright seemed more difficult with every labored heartbeat and he slumped slowly forward onto the table, his breath leaving him in a trembling sigh, the drugs overwhelming,

The medic settled down on the chair, taking care to push the vo-corder forward and activate it before he spoke. "Perhaps we can sit him up?"

Heavy hands hauled at Luke from behind, pulling him upright so that he slumped in the chair, head lolling, incredibly heavy, the medic's words unexpectedly, almost painfully loud in his hears, "Good. Okay, we can start now—this is session one, the date is forty-five, fifth, fifth, Coruscant Standard."

Madine's voice came, low and satisfied—Luke couldn't make out his face any more; "I want confessions on the vo-corder—start with the fact that he was a spy—I want to hear him say it out loud, nice and clear."

"Fine." The medic, leaned in slightly. "Shall we start at the beginning? Shall we start with your name?"

Luke turned away, clinging to what awareness he had, familiar with this game. His Master had often used drugs against him, to control and subdue—among other, less clinical methods. He'd long since read the techniques that enabled you to control it—for a while.

The medic paused expectantly before prompting, voice dripping insincere familiarity, "You have a name which I'm told you once used here—Luke, isn't it?"

Luke remained still, staring to the desk before him, concentrating closely on that familiar metallic tang at the back of his throat; it was a long time since he'd tasted it…he'd always hated it.

The man leaned back slightly to glance to Madine, voice a quiet murmur, "I think we'll take him up twenty milli." His attention turned down, then back to Luke as the dose rushed in a flush through his veins, causing an overwhelming wave of nausea and dizziness, making him grip to the hook at the centre of the table which held his hands bound.

"How do you feel, Luke?"

"Tired…can't breathe." Had he said that? _Concentrate_.

"You'll be fine." Again that soulless fellowship, completely without feeling, "Luke—is Luke your name?"

"I can't…"

"Is your name Luke?"

"Y… no… it was."

"You don't seem very sure?"

"I don't…seem very sure." Luke repeated the words, more an avoidance than acknowledgement.

The man shifted slightly, the motion making Luke's head swim. "Is your name Luke Skywalker?"

"I…have no name..I lost it."

"Is your name Luke Skywalker?"

Eyes still locked on his hands, Luke shook his head slightly.

Silence held for long seconds as the medic regarded him, openly considering…then turned again to Madine, "I think we'll up the dose."

That strange heat rolled through Luke again, making his heart skip and his head cloud. His broken breaths were loud in his ears, like the roar of an ocean, his eyes drifting inexorably closed. He felt his head loll momentarily, the action causing the room to spin, the bright lights dragging long, blurred lines across his vision as someone behind him caught the back of his collar, holding him upright. The medic leaned in slightly, his chair scraping across the hard floor, the sound grating across Luke's painfully acute hearing.

"Perhaps we should try again; your name is Luke?"

He blinked slowly, hypnotized by the sound of his own labored breathing, staring at the vague, imprecise features of the medic as he spoke, digging deep for resolve as the pain began to spike in his chest, temples pounding. He could do this—this was an old game; "……..One hundred."

His inquisitor's blurry features transformed into a smudged frown, "What?"

"One hundred. Ninety-three…..eighty..eighty-six….seventy-nine…."

The medic leaned back, realizing. He watched for a short while as Luke struggled to count backwards, the act requiring every ounce of concentration.

"Seventy….seventy-two…sixty-five…sixty—no, fifty-eight. Fifty eight. Then…"

"Fifty-one." The man said, attempting to take over Luke's train of thought, "Then forty-four. Shall we continue?"

_Ignore him; concentrate…_ "Forty—no…thirty-seven?"

"Thirty-seven, thirty. Twenty-three, sixteen, nine, two." The interrogator completed the train of thought for him, "What's your name? Your real name?"

That hazy, fuzzy daze blanketed thoughts and emotions to leave him numb and dizzy and diffuse, and Luke knew he should be worried, that he should be on guard, but…he fell momentarily back into the blackout, his body jolting physically at the imagined fall, eyes opening wide, the light painful.

"I can't breathe."

The voice that filtered through was calm and quiet and completely without emotion, "Your breathing is fine Luke, I'm watching you. Tell me about the Rebellion. You were a pilot, is that right?"

Luke stared, memories assaulting him, too many and too fast to hold against, "X-Wing," he murmured, the image of his battered old fighter coming intensely to the fore of his thoughts; of the tape across a tear in the pilot's seat, of the failed heating duct which always left his feet freezing, of having to hover one time above the landing bay floor whilst a 'tech came out and hit the release hatch for the front landing strut with a piece of pipe because it had stuck closed and he couldn't set down. He smiled; stupid ship…always got him back.

"Rogues…" he said absently, "Rogue Squadron."

"Rogues…is that the squadron you flew with?"

More memories, thick and fast, _don't; don't get pulled in._ Individual moments plucked from time crowded in on him, broken fragments with no order and no sense; hours spent sat in the ready-room, waiting to sortie, talking and laughing and playing sabacc. _Don't get pulled in._ Endless hours in insular isolation listening to the chatter on the comm system when on escort duty, nothing to do but stare at the rear of a freighter's engines and wait for trouble. _Don't get pulled in._ He remembered Tycho bringing an X-Wing in once with three s-foils and no landing gear. He remembered Dak accidentally shooting Sarkli in the foot. He remembered the still they had set up in the rec room. Remembered Wald throwing up in his cockpit when he took a shot and was knocked unconscious, and everyone drawing straws as to who had to clean it out. _Don't..._ Remembered Wedge walking into the mess hall one time with his flight suit on inside-out, he was so tired. Remembered Madine chewing him out for taking a run on a heavily-defended gun-slit…Madine…

_Don't get… _but the moments clamored to be heard, to be felt, and he was falling among them, nauseous, heart pounding, chest tight.

A memory surfaced, pulled to the fore by that same feeling of nausea and dizziness; of barrel-rolling in the atmosphere, a spook on his tail. Of turning the ship too tight on the pull out, corner-speed g-forces after the near-stall of the roll pushing his body too close to the edge of endurance; of the cold, seeping nausea, the slow tunneling of his vision and the sure knowledge that the spook was still there, every shot getting closer. Of yanking clear and rattling off six fast shots which raked the spook, other, unknown shots exploding it onto a blossom of fiery heat in the same moment as Wedge's X-Wing screamed by overhead, brash enough to take a victory roll even in the middle of a dog-fight.

"Wedge," Luke said aloud, grinning.

"Wedge?" The unwelcome voice that prized itself into Luke memories made the name a question, and Luke had some vague inkling that he shouldn't reply but couldn't remember why.

"Wedge Antilles," he whispered, the name of his old friend enough to make him smile.

"A pilot?" The voice prompted, "A pilot like you?"

"Like me." That twisting mix of relief and deliverance and adrenaline burned inside him again as Luke smiled at the memory of Wedge's X-Wing wrenching out of the flashy aileron-roll and Luke grinned; laughed aloud. "He pulls another stunt like that in the middle of a fight and I'll bust his ass down to wingman."

"You remember Wedge?" the voice asked.

_Don't get pulled in… _Luke frowned, the warning lost in the rush of memories bursting forth, "Yes."

He could see him absolutely; his cocky grin, his endless confidence—a brief, blurred image of Wedge slouching unevenly in a chair opposite him on the time that he'd drunk Luke under the table for a bet. Could recall them both sitting on the floor in separate stalls the next morning feeling green and fragile and way too worse for wear and praying they didn't get the sortie alarm. He smiled at the memories; _Wedge…_

That voice spoke again, "Did Wedge know what you were, Luke?"

Luke frowned, confusion misting the memories now…why was it so hard to breathe? "What?"

"Wedge; did he know you were an Imperial spy—or did you never tell him that you were a spy?"

_Don't get pulled in_. Confusion, and the memories drifted away but the queasiness remained; the chemical taste in the back of his throat. Luke turned to stare at the voice, and the man who slowly coalesced about it. "Not…a spy." He dredged the words from dim thoughts as he stared at the man, "Not a spy."

That head tilted, splitting into multiple images as it fazed across Luke's indistinct vision, "That's not true, is it? You were a spy, the fact is that you just didn't tell people…did you tell people you were a spy Luke, or did you keep the that fact hidden?"

Luke blinked, dredging that knowledge, that determination up to his thoughts, remembering where he was, what was at stake, struggling to pull in a breath against burning lungs and aching ribs. _Don't get pulled in._ "Not a spy."

"Yes you were. All you need do is say it just once and we don't need to ever talk about it again. Do you want this to stop, Luke?"

Reality, cold and hard; his chest cramped from simply breathing, his muscles burned, his heart spike with every pound. "Everything hurts…"

"That's the drugs Luke…but we can stop that, no problem. That would be best, wouldn't it?"

"Yes…."

"Then it's very easy… just say you were an Imperial spy. Just once, and all this will stop. It's obvious, isn't it? Obvious what you should do. And it's so easy. Just you and I are here, Luke. Just tell me that you were a spy?"

Palpatine's voice came from no-where in wheedling tones, so absolutely crystal clear that he could have been stood at Luke's shoulder, _"Only you and I are here; would it be so terrible to kneel?"_

"I can't do it—I can't."

"Luke, I can't stop the drugs until you say that you were a spy. It's impossible, do you understand? This will continue until you say that. Do you want it to continue?"

Luke tried to shake his head, fizzing explosions lighting beneath his skin at the movement, muscles trembling, excruciating. "How many minutes?" He probably wasn't meant to ask that out loud. "How many minutes now?"

"How many minutes? Not long. We still have a long way to go Luke…and I can always administer another dose."

"No more doses…no more doses in…." he struggled to remember, the facts escaping him. "Hours. Twelve hours….twelve hours…"

"Theoretically. But we know your Imperial interrogators use the drug again as close to three hours afterwards."

Spikes of distant awareness cut razor-sharp in the back of his mind, anger giving them power, "No…illegal. Illegal now. Changed…"

"Only not so, isn't that the truth? Now it's just a little less public."

"No."

"Yes."

"Change…" Luke was fighting to get his point across, aware that his words were slow and over-pronounced, stumbling on each one, "..is slow. But started."

"Save it for the holo-speeches. You have no audience here." Another voice…Madine; Madine was here!

Luke blinked slowly, trying to turn his head to the voice, but the muscles of his neck and back locked in spasm. "Change…."

"Liar."

"..change…"

The hand banged forcibly on the table before Luke, making him jolt, his mind reeling at the sudden sensory overload...

.

.

A noise so loud it was painful made Luke open his eyes, though he couldn't turn to see the source yet. He lay with his face down on the cold table, thankful for its chill against heated skin, still tethered awkwardly to the desk his head rested on, shoulders cramping though the drug had worked its way clear of his system over the last few hours.

The glaring lights lanced into him, but he knew that trying to turn his head away would hurt more, so he lay still, taking shaky breaths in through still-aching lungs.

"I don't consider myself a moralist," Madine's voice came coolly from somewhere close, and Luke had no idea if he'd been there all along or had just walked into the room. "War is never clean and it's never fair…but it's necessary. I get my hands dirty so that those who cling so stubbornly to their high moral principals can sleep well at night. Myself, I'll sleep very well tonight—you should try to do the same. Get some rest, something to eat, unwind a little—I know I will when I walk out of here. You…you might find it a little more difficult, what with the boys behind you coming in every few hours to make sure you're awake. I've told them I'm not particularly bothered how they do that."

Luke blinked slowly, unresponsive, still struggling to heave breaths in hours after the drug was spent.

Madine's voice again, unnaturally loud. "You should sit up."

Someone hauled Luke up by the scruff of his neck, eliciting a sharp, soundless gasp, his throat too dry to speak yet. The unknown hand released him and he immediately began to slump, but it grabbed him and hauled him straight again, shaking him, the binders on his wrists clattering in their catch, until Luke took his own weight.

Madine sat before him, unmoved. "You know, I was thinking about what you said...maybe a few hours stood up nice and straight would do the galaxy of good; give you time to think, huh?"

Luke didn't reply. Eyes down, blinking repeatedly, his body weaving slightly from drugs and exhaustion he was, to all intents and purposes, only half-there. In fact, he was staring fixedly at exactly what he needed, laid casually on the table before him, just beyond the reach of his tethered hands.

Madine was already rising, one of the soldiers stepping forward as they always did to release Luke's bound hands from the catch in the middle of the table without ever removing his actual cuffs, as another began to kick the loose chain which extended from the cuff on Luke's ankle back towards the bunk, ready to tether it, the movement grinding its metal edge against barked skin.

Luke's eyes remained locked on the table; on the stylus and the vo-corder and the two empty syringes which rested on it, all just beyond his reach.

He could think of no other way to get to them; maybe if he was a little sharper, he would have…but this chance might not come again and in a few more moments Madine would remove them from the table and even this would be gone.

This would hurt, he knew that. This, he'd pay for.

But he could think of only one way to get what he wanted off that table.

As the soldier lifted his wrist binders free, Luke lunged to his feet, still-bound hands pulling back to deliver an awkward sideways blow to the man's face with his elbow, aiming for his nose, knowing that would send him reeling. It was weak and uncoordinated, but it made contact and as the man staggered backwards Luke made a wide, fast motion to sweep everything off the table with as much power as he could muster, the contents scattering, the vo-corder casing shattering on the hard floor before Luke took the corner of the table in both hands and, yanking it aside, lunged for Madine, managing to grab him by the scuff as the big man backstepped, arms up in surprise. His wrists bound, Luke did the one thing he was still capable of; he yanked Madine in and brought his own head forward in a swift head-butt hard enough to make himself reel, let alone Madine—

Then his feet were hauled from under him, the soldier who'd been about to chain his ankle back to the bunk frame having had the presence of mind to simply haul on the chain, dropping Luke instantly, no defense possible.

He rolled as he fell, the sharp shards of the shattered vo-corder case digging in through his flightsuit as he rolled over them, bound hands sweeping across them, worried they'd stun him and this would have been for nothing, his eyes on his goal—

The blow came from behind seconds later, hard enough to make him see stars. Luke curled up, breath leaving him in a gasp though he didn't shout out; he never shouted out. Years with Palpatine had taught him that.

"Get him up here! Get him back up here!"

Luke was hauled bodily back onto the chair, another heavy blow to his kidneys winding him, making him gasp again, doubling over as they yanked him back by his collar and his hair.

He looked up to see Madine, his nose bloody, bad enough that it had already spattered across that perfectly-pressed uniform—and he couldn't resist it. He shouldn't, Luke knew that, but he couldn't resist it; he grinned, still gasping, breathless, "Well look at that—Generals bleed too."

Madine stepped forward and, held in place by the two soldiers behind him, there was little Luke could do, even in defense.

.

Fury spent, Madine backed up, the muscles of his back and arms still tensed from his onslaught, Skywalker's body lax now, having fallen to the floor long ago beneath the beating. Madine stared at him, panting, still bringing his thoughts under control.

"We need a little co-ordinated action here; Densun, where's that ring he wore?"

The trooper looked up, himself still breathless, "I dunno—I think Coley took it."

"Get it off him. Bring it here. Tinel; go get the recorder."

Densun was back within ten minutes, handing the blue-stoned ring over to Madine, who took it, kicking the still-unconscious Skywalker casually over.

"Which finger did he wear it on?"

"Little finger, left hand." Densun said from memory.

Madine crouched before Skywalker, struggling to get the ring back on over loose fingers before turning to Tinel. "Take the holo—get his face and the ring. Don't get anything else in."

Beside him, Tinel activated the recorder as he slowly stepped closer. Madine reached out as the man got close, using his foot to kick the still-unconscious Skywalker onto his back, his face now slick with blood, appalling injuries obvious. Reaching his hands in, he struggled to drag the blue-stoned ring from Skywalker's unresisting fingers, slippery with blood now.

"Got it." You want me to get the statement spliced onto it?"

"Yeah, but don't put it out just yet." Turning to Densun, Madine held out the ring. "Here. You're gonna make a very special delivery—and I want to know just exactly when it arrives."

.

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	39. Chapter 39

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"To summarize," Admiral Joss turned back to the display, keying the console set into the desk before him to highlight three-dimensional areas within the holographic map which was displayed over the large circular table, "We're confident that we now have the Kwenn System itself, the Vallusk Cluster and the Feriae Sector checked and cleared. We'll have the Kalamith Sector, including Toprawa, the Arda and Yavin Systems swept and cleared by this time tomorrow, which will have secured the Bright Jewel Oversector entirely. We're restricting light-speed travel within those areas to permit-only and using Skang-Linner systems to detect lightspeed signatures crossing within forty thousand clicks of official shipping lanes. Nothing is going into or out of those systems without our knowledge, unless they're risking travelling outside proscribed routes. In total, we've now eliminated close to fifty systems from our search, but the search area is increasing rapidly as the radial expansion from Kwenn increases so we're proposing a move to sequester local and planetary forces headed up by military commanders to monitor and maintain cleared areas."

"Using local law enforcement will start rumors." Mara said.

"I fail to see why that's a problem." Kiria D'Arca said this, bringing Mara's eyes to her, freshly wary in view of her own condition.

The Empress had, with her usual persistence, continued to attend any and all meetings, including the COS's. Still, the fact was that she had also performed her role flawlessly to date, disguising Luke's absence with perfect composure despite her personal opinion in this. There were still subtle undertones of powergames of course, with D'Arca holding the unswerving support of the Royal Houses and Mara, with the aid of Reiss, Arco and Joss, holding the confidence of the military. But there was also a deeper knowledge that if ever there were extenuating circumstances it was now, and beneath them, by some unspoken agreement, all older grudges were set aside.

More or less.

"I'm not going to escalate this by going public," Mara said resolutely. "Not until we have to."

Admiral Joss straightened slightly, eyes on Mara. "With respect Madam Regent, the rumors are flying already now. I've personally authorized the reorganization of over six hundred military mainline vessels from their standard duties today alone. I'm sure General Reiss will attest to the same in terms of military units and manpower, as will Commander Arco. If we wish to maintain this pace, then we need the resources to do it."

Mara pursed her lips, all eyes on her. She'd been trained since childhood to think on her feet and in military terms, so the knowledge of what was necessary was completely clear to her. But now she needed to take into account the political and civilian landscape as well, and that muddying of the waters was pressure she didn't need. But they were finally getting on top of the problem and eliminating huge tracts of space from their investigations, and she wouldn't hinder or stop it now.

"Do it." Mara said at last.

"I should warn you Ma'am, that in three days time, we'll run out of sufficient Interdictors to guarantee blanket coverage in terms of restricting lightspeed travel in cleared areas." Joss said gravely.

Mara turned to Arco, who had been assigned this problem when the success of continued search patterns had begun to make it loom.

"We've sequestered a total of one-hundred-seven corporate interdictors, which is all we're able to trace at this time. None of them are military spec and all will need a Star Destroyer to accompany them, but they will effectively enable us to ensure checked systems remain secure for another three days at our present rate of expansion." Arco said crisply, eyes on his own automemo. "After that, we're looking at alternative mobile gravity wells and platforms, particularly for use on space lanes, plus we're working on a strategic placement system which will enable us to free up some of the military interdictors from the original systems that were cleared, based on the fact that surrounding systems will now also contain interdictors."

"When will the sequestered interdictors be in position?"

"We already have ninety in our possession and heading to their proposed posts. The others will be moving by tomorrow. We have sixty of a possible two hundred gravity wells on the move using various requisitioned transport methods, but several systems will need more than one to effect the same coverage that a military Interdictor can achieve."

Mara rose, the assorted CIC's standing as she did so; she'd never get used to that. "Then I believe we're done for tonight gentlemen. Update at oh-six-hundred tomorrow. Get some rest or get some results and bring either to the table then. Thank you."

.

Walking from the War Room, Nathan in tow, Mara was once again reminded of Luke's constant frustration at not spending more time on the front lines with the troops; he'd always been at heart a do-er, a front-line soldier, and though his ability to make things happen had easily translated into leadership, that didn't leave him any less frustrated at the restrictions of his own position, just as it was with Mara right now. Everything she had done today was organization. She could do organization; could do it with her eyes closed, but it wasn't her forte, and every day that passed saw her more and more frustrated.

Nathan drew up beside her and Mara spoke without bothering to turn, "Nathan, if you ask me whether I've eaten in the last three hours I'm going to physically hurt you. There may be bones broken."

"You know you need to eat little and often." The slight medic said, drawing level so that his voice wouldn't carry.

"So, what," Mara grated, "You've read one paper on pregnancy and now you're a leading expert?"

"Actually I read nine papers which is, I believe, nine papers more than you so yes, around here I am." Nathan said with injured pride.

He had finally tracked down some drugs to help Mara with the nausea this afternoon, which had made him, briefly, her hero. Then the nagging had started; had she eaten? When? What? How much? Was it balanced? Did she need to rest? How did she feel, did she need anything?

With something useful on which to focus his abilities and attention, he seemed to be regaining that same mix of neurotic anxiety and snubbed confidence that he'd always juggled so inimitably. From the moment they both knew of Mara's pregnancy, Nathan had clearly taken it onboard that in Luke's absence, _he_ would be the one responsible. And it was driving Mara insane.

Particularly when she was also having to deal with all these damn hormones which were whipping up a storm right now, dragging her from one extreme to the other in the space of a single minute.

And, let's face it, Mara reflected in this particular moment's burst of bitter amusement, as far as rollercoaster unpredictability went, this really wasn't the ideal situation to be looking for a little emotional stability.

She sensed the flash of near-panic long before she heard the footsteps, turning round to see one of Arco's Intel officers practically run up the corridor towards them. What scared her most was that he didn't stop when he reached Arco; he kept running towards Mara. Three steps away from her he suddenly slowed, uncertain, looking instead to D'Arca, so that when he spoke, though he remained closer to the Empress, his words were, quite correctly, to Mara.

"Ma'am Regent; we've got something."

"A location?"

"No Ma'am."

"A.." Mara bit down on the word she nearly said aloud; _a body_.

D'Arca stepped quickly forward, "Do you have news?"

"Something was delivered to the military base on Tarn Peninsula. It arrived at the Palace a few minutes ago."

.

Mara was breathless from her near-run to the Intel Suite in the North Tower. When she arrived, the package had already been checked and DNA-scanned, the outer wrapping—a simple flimiplast envelope—removed, leaving only the contents on a clear tray on Arco's desk. Mara knew she should wait, that she should give forensics all the time they needed with it, but the wrinkled, blood-stained piece of paper was clearly wrapped around something small and circular, and she couldn't hold back.

"The envelope was addressed to the Empress," the Intel officer continued, though it wasn't meant as a discouragement as Mara stepped forward. Intel, being a branch of the military, staunchly backed Mara's authority, the man adding, "It was delivered to the stormtrooper barracks by a droid messenger from an automated local delivery service."

Mara lifted the small crumple of paper, and so badly wrapped was it that the item fell free as she did so and she caught it in the palm of her other hand...it glinted just once as the smeared stone caught the light.

It was Luke's ring. A mass of memories erupted at the sight of it; of laying pressed against him in their safe haven onboard the _Patriot_ as she asked him where it was from; of watching him countless times use his thumb to turn the ring about again and again on his little finger, a subconscious habit he had. He never took the ring off; never.

Like the paper that held it, the ring itself was slicked in dry blood which had caked in the carved mount, rusty red.

She heard Nathan's voice as if from very far away; "The blood?"

"They've run analysis on the outer envelope; it's the Emperor's."

Mara was still staring at the ring when she sensed then heard the commotion in the next room. She didn't turn to look, eyes and thoughts locked on the ring, on Luke...

"Sir!"

Beside her, Arco and Nathan both turned. It was long seconds before Mara could pull her thoughts together and when she did, she realized that the room had emptied about her, the commotion from the next room becoming too great to ignore. Bracing, she walked through—and everyone stopped, the room falling to ominous silence.

Everyone stood gathered around a single desk. On it a holoprojector was flickering, it's image frozen…

Mara walked forward, feeling lightheaded, clutching the ring tightly. "Play it."

Nathan stepped forward, "Mara maybe…"

"Play it."

Commander Arco's voice was grave as he reached out and pressed the holo's activation stud. "It was picked up a few minutes ago on the open HoloNet and sent straight to Intel. We're trying to trace it now. We've taken the code apart but as far as we can tell, it's already a copy of a copy of a copy. There's a synthetic voice-over claiming responsibility on behalf of the Rebel Alliance, along with..."

He trailed to silence and Mara watched, breathless. Watched the shaky image of a pale rough-cast floor, scuffed, smeared in places with something slick and dark. On it, a man lay in an awkward position, face down, arm twisted behind him. His creased, faded flightsuit had a wide stain on the back of the collar...bloodstain.

Mara clutched at her stomach, suddenly aware that it was becoming hard to breathe.

As the image moved closer to the still form of the man, a booted foot came in none too gently, and turned his unresisting form over; unconscious, he.....

Luke....his face was covered in open wounds; fresh wounds. Dark, arterial blood smeared his skin, his nose broken, eyes closed. A man's hand, fist slick with Luke's blood, reached in and grasped his hand, pulling the ring from his finger. The ring that Mara now held so tightly in her grip that it was pressing painfully into her palm.

It was like a body-blow to see him, a pain so deep and so visceral that it took the air from her lungs and drained the blood from her head so that she staggered back a step to lean against another desk for support as the synthetic voice continued.

"…_looking at images of a corrupt and self-serving man who has spent years elevating himself and his own personal power. That time is now over; the Alliance to Restore the Republic has brought it to an end. In seven days time, we will bring the Empire's unjust system of absolute rule to a conclusive end—one that we will share with the entire galaxy. Pass this message on."_

Mara stared, mute, as that final image flickered and froze, every nightmare fear of the last week coming real.

"No terms, no demands?" Admiral Joss's voice was a distant, meaningless drone beneath the buzz of her blood in her ears.

"There are no terms," Arco said gravely. "This isn't an opening of negotiations, it's a statement of what's going to happen…publicly."

"How many copies of this are out there?" Clem asked, voice rough. "Can we isolate it, pull it?"

"We're running the numbers now, Sir...."

Screens scrolled...and Mara watched the man at the console leaned forward, head in his hands, "Present estimate is around seventy or eighty thousand...and counting. It's all over the HoloNet; it's viral."

.

Kiria D'Arca too stood isolated and distraught, one delicate hand to her open mouth to cover her shock as the images played. She was vaguely aware of Mara Jade stepping from her vision, of the medic Hallin turning away.

Luke's ring; she remembered it well, the heavy, indigo blue stone set in polished perennium.

The Emperor's signet ring, delivered here wrapped in a piece of screwed up flimsiplast as if it were nothing; as if it were worthless. Smudged and smeared with dark, dried, ruddy brown, it had taken only second for Kiria to realize what it was when it had fallen from the stained paper into Jade's hand.

Kiria shook her head, outraged once that someone had done this to the Emperor, and again that they would do such a thing in transmitting these images across the galaxy then sending that same ring to her, his wife. How _dare_ they.

She paused, calculating the immensity of her own reaction, her anger, her _fury_ at seeing the images, at seeing that first glimpse of blood on the Emperor's signet ring, at its stark contrast against the pale, crushed sheet of flimsiplast parchment…

Looking back to her own adjutant she spoke quickly, "Assemble the Emperor's Council—they're to meet in the Cabinet right now. And inform Dasco that there are summonses to be sent out to all the Royal Houses in the Capital City. They're to arrive before midnight."

As she spoke, Kiria was already stripping the large, many-stoned rings from her fingers.

If he'd listened to her, then none of this would have happened; if he'd arrested the traitor Reece when he _knew_ he was treasonous…an argument if ever she had heard one for swift and decisive action on the part of an Emperor. But it was done; it was out now—the truth was out, and she could do what she'd always known she'd been placed here to do.

She turned to Jade, "I can turn this to our advantage—if you'll let me."

Features pinched against emotions Kiria well understood, Jade hesitated only seconds. "Tell me."

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Within hours Kiria stood at the doors to the massive Winter Hall, an official receiving room close to the Cabinet, its coffered ceilings reflecting hidden illumination down over pale silk-covered walls and onto gilded furnishings, their upholstery palest cream. The whole chamber was a study of light, white on white, immaculate and stately.

Every leading member of every Royal House that held a residence on Coruscant had been contacted—and when you received an invitation from the Imperial Palace, you didn't refuse. And of course they'd have seen; they'd all have seen the short recording by now; it had spead like wildfire across the HoloNet, unstoppable. But nobody knew the truth yet; nobody was _sure_.

This was her milieu. This was her strength. She knew these people; she knew how they thought and she knew how they reacted and she knew what they respected and the fears they never voiced. Taking a single breath, clutching her closed hand to her chest, she stepped forward and the wide, high doors swung silently open.

Kiria walked the length of the long hall alone, no entourage, nothing to diminish her isolation—and she wore white. White, a color she hadn't worn in years, the gown simple but refined, a heavy overmantle of palest gray, refined and understated, chosen, as the pristine white chamber had been, with great care.

Everything had been carefully orchestrated to inspire and influence those attending, stage-managed in a language they understood.

The room fell to silence, the assembled dignitaries stepping back with all due respect to give her a wide aisle as she walked on, chin held high, absolutely the Empress. When she reached the head of the room she moved to the far side of the large white basalt table, carefully positioned for its task tonight. Briefly she glimpsed Mara Jade, stood to one side at the head of the room; visible proof of the Palace's solidarity in times of turmoil. Turning to the room, Kiria waited a few seconds, more for effect than anything else, sure that she already had their full attention…

Stepping to the flawless basalt table, she opened her clenched hand and dropped its contents–

The Emperor's ring, still ingrained with dry blood, clattered across the white surface, sounding a loud tone as it struck. Rolled up within the ring was the small piece of parchment which had wrapped it, and the fall of the ring knocked it clear so that it unfurled, the wide, smeared stain of blood from that irregular, all-pervading stain a dark, ruby contrast on the pale white surface.

The susurration of shock travelled through the assembled crowd like wildfire, growing as it did so, gaining in volume and indignation.

And Kiria knew she had them. Even without the speech she was about to make, she knew she'd fired their outrage and their indignation. That they'd pull behind her and hold together; close ranks against an outside force who'd dared to threaten their Emperor, the pinnacle of their customs and their conventions and their way of life.

She waited long minutes as the whispers turned to words, then to shouts; waited until they slowly died down again

"On behalf of the Emperor, I thank you for your attendance here tonight; for your righteous outrage at this turn of events, for your unity, for your support, for your strength..."

.

It was the speech that nine trusted writers had been dragged awake to write and perfect; the speech that would focus the response of those present and cement the Royal Houses' commitment to a par with the already-incensed military. A speech to inspire the faithful and rally the cause.

As had been meticulously planned in this carefully-orchestrated event, Kiria would make the speech, take the ring, place it upon the finger of her now-unadorned hand, and leave…

And the spattered, scarlet-stained parchment would remain on that flawless white table, a statement as compelling as any words the Empress could speak.

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The comm's came in slowly at first, in ones and two's on diplomatic channels, from those who had been present at the Winter Hall; then three channels were constantly taken, then four, then eight, then twenty, as the images spread across the HoloNet and the word of what had happened at the Palace buzzed through the Ruling Houses, every incoming comm expressing the same thing; outrage. The Royal Houses were doing the one thing that they could be consistently relied on to do; they were closing ranks about one of their own, rallying to the Emperor's cause. He was sacrosanct; untouchable. His position was above such petty machinations.

By dawn a room was set aside to deal with the incoming messages of support as the news spread. Then another. Then another. Every head of every Family rallying to the cause of an Emperor whom they now considered one of their own.

As the HoloNet images spread, comms came in from other sources too, in unanticipated numbers; Planetary Representatives, System Governors, Ruling Councils.

Every and all support; anything they could offer. Their own systems were already mobilized, the civilian populous up in arms, their indignation fired and fed. Non-humans were incensed; the Emperor who had given them back their rights and their liberty and their dignity now needed them. Their own territory would be searched; there would be no safe quarter, no harbour for those who committed such an act.

The official rooms worked through the day to field the calls; statements of solidarity, of loyalty, of unconditional support.

.

As had become their habit, Mara and Nathan were holed up in Luke's office going through new Intel, the volume of calls still increasing, and Mara had to admit that Kiria had pulled a coup of staggering efficacy. She'd played to the audience she knew pitch-perfect, and the results had been incredible, but the populace at large had been fired up by the provocative images too, with a passion and an outrage that no-one had anticipated.

Ever the player, the Scarlet Empress had cancelled all public engagements, but still allowed herself to be seen several times through the day, still dressed in white, still wearing the ring, a living embodiment of the people's resolve. This particular victory, Mara knew, was completely hers.

And he knew why; she'd achieved so much because she'd played to her strengths...which begged the question; why was Mara not doing the same?

An aide entered to inform them that the Empress was waiting, and when Kiria entered it was with her typical grace, though she at least had the decency to look tired, Mara reflected.

She bowed politely to Mara, always upholding the protocols she'd grown up with. "I came to ask if you've heard about the flags, Madam Regent?"

"Flags?"

The slightest of cheerless smiles touched Kiria's lips, "I'm informed that all system, House and planetary flags are being flown at half-mast across the galaxy—all flags save the Emperor's Lorric.

_The Lorric_; Luke's flag, always flown from the pennant balcony if he was in residence and emblazoned, much to his chagrin, on most of the official starships he traveled in.

Because it featured as part of its design a wreath of lorric willow, over time Luke's flag had come to be known across the galaxy first as the Lorric flag, and now simply as the Lorric.

He'd hated the whole idea of a coat of arms when he'd been named Heir; thought it pretentious and embarrassing, had to be coaxed and bullied by Mara into choosing one at all. She'd often wondered privately if he'd have taken a little more time to choose it, had he known he'd see it so often in the future; probably not.

In that same moment, another memory came to Mara which sent a pang of desolate grief through her chest; Luke, teasing her as she'd tried to make him choose, a wicked grin on his face as he'd passed the responsibility to Nathan with the admonition; "Choose it with care—one day soon you may be flying it at half-mast."

She need only look to Nathan's own face to know that he'd remembered those self-same words.

D'Arca cut into her thoughts, shrewd as ever. "I've ordered all flags on the pennant balcony save the Emperor's _Lorric_ to be flown at half-mast until…until he returns."

Mara glanced to her, a thought occurring, "Where did this trend start?"

"In the Royal Houses, Ma'am."

"Really?" Mara asked. "That wouldn't be on Borleias, would it? Or Commenor—or Teyr perhaps?"

Kiria smiled at the mention of the planets under control of the House D'Arca. "It's difficult to say where such things begin," she said blithely. "It was, however, at none of those planets under direct control of the House D'Arca; I'd never be so brazen."

Mara narrowed her eyes at the indirect answer, convinced all over again of Kiria's sharp diplomatic mind; of course she would have been smart enough to avoid any direct link, probably requesting this from one of the House D'Arca's less obvious connections first. The D'Arca's sphere of influence ranged from connections by marriage into many prominent Royal Houses through to impressive military ties, and D'Arca thought nothing of calling in any and all favors to bend any facet of this particular fight to her—and therefore Luke's—advantage.

"You think this will help?" MAra asked.

"It's an unmistakable display of loyalty which is spreading across the galaxy, a very public statement which everyone feels they can take a part in, be a part _of_. Something which will be subliminally visible everywhere, from Coruscant to Ammuud."

"Will it get him back?" It was petty, Mara knew, but this morning had been the fifth dawn in a row that she'd seen breaking the waning night and she was achingly tired.

"It will put the matter in the minds of everyone, everywhere."

"I think the images released by Madine are doing that." Mara said sourly.

"The images released by Madine have made this solidarity possible," Kiria said firmly. "They've made a great deal possible. Had they not been so…contentious, our task may have been so much harder. As it is, they may turn the tide of public opinion against the Rebellion—and where will they hide then? In fact, it may turn the tide in more ways than one."

Mara straightened, "Everything in life doesn't eventually come down to a popularity contest, Excellency."

Kiria lifted her chin, "I'm disappointed Madam Regent; I thought you knew him so well."

Mara turned emerald-hard eyes on her, "I knew him a good deal better than you, Excellency; I still do."

Kiria flashed a cool, tight smile, "Everything in life doesn't come down to a popularity contest, Madam Regent. I was claiming that I know the Emperor's political agenda. I believe I know some portion of what he intended and therefore what he needed towards those goals. And forgive me Madam Regent, but I believe that if he were here right now, he would still hold those goals as paramount. _That_ is what made him an Emperor. And _when_ he comes back, Force help me if I haven't made every possible use of this outpouring of loyalty in his absence. He's paid a high price for it already, and I consider it my duty to make sure he extracts ever last ounce of value from that price, Madam Regent."

As D'Arca bowed stiffly and turned to leave, Mara's eye was drawn to her hand; to the single ring she now wore; Luke's ring. Very conspicuously the _only_ ring she'd claimed she would wear until his return.

Feeling a brief pang of jealousy, Mara remembered again the thousand times she'd watched Luke unthinkingly turn the blue-stoned ring about on his little finger using his thumb, when he was lost in thought. She put her hand to her neckline where, unseen by anyone, she'd taken to wearing the black-jewelled Imperial Star which she remembered so vividly Luke wearing on his dress suit on the night that they had danced alone in the shadowed secrecy of the balcony. Tied to a ribbon about her neck, its weight had become a familiar reassurance, a constant reminder.

And somewhere, in some tiny corner of her mind that she resolutely ignored, she couldn't help but fear that she'd be wearing the same black-stoned Star at his funeral.

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Karrde?" it was Aves, Talon Karrde's second in command, leaning in through the door of Karrde's office onboard the _Wilde Karrde_ with a face like thunder. "You really need to come see this. It got put out viral on the HoloNet less than an hour ago. It's already everywhere."

Karrde frowned, rising. "What is it?"

Aves shook his head, reluctant to say. "You need to see it."

.

They stood before the holo-projector, watching the basic three-D image of a beaten man laying unconscious on a rough, blood-stained floor. As the image closed, a boot came into the corner of the frame and kicked the man over none-too-gently, his head lolling to the side, face barely recognizable. The image held on that battered face for way too long before hands still marked by the beaten man's blood came in towards his scuffed left hand, which had fallen loosely down across his chest, prizing from his finger a large-stoned ring set into a heavy bezel, the indigo blue of the stone almost completely obscured by a slick of dark blood.

"…_time is now over; the Alliance to Restore the Republic has brought it to an end. In seven days time, we will bring the Empire's unjust system of absolute rule to a conclusive end—one that we will share with the entire…"_

Karrde watched the run of images without reaction for the fifth time now, emotions pulled in tight as they always were, jaw flexing. Around him, sporting equally grave expressions, were Aves, Chin and Tapper.

"Guess this explains why half the Imperial fleet is mobilized and breakin' off from normal routines," Aves said grimly into Karrde's silence, talking over the synthesized voice-over which was claiming responsibility on behalf of the Rebel Alliance and hinting none too subtly at an escalation of intent. "And why they're shakin' down every informer between here and the Rim."

"That's a Rebel flightsuit," Karrde confirmed coolly at last, big arms folded across his chest.

"You sure?" Aves narrowed his eyes as he leaned in. There were few people in Karrde's organization who were trusted enough to know the identity of their primary client, and all of them were all crowded into the communications suite right now, staring at the screen, equal looks of grim appraisal from each of them. " 'Cos is it me, or does that seem insanely rash for an organization that's been pushed pretty much out into the Rim in the last few years."

"Yeah, and who exactly did that?" Tapper prompted, eyes still on the screen.

Aves wasn't buying, "Wouldn't be the same Emperor who just let Rebel pilots fly away from a failed raid at Fondor, would it?"

"Do you know any other organization who has grey-blue flightsuits?" Karrde said, keying for the image to repeat. "And look where the Group patches were; you can see where they took them off; that's an A-Wing flightsuit."

"A flightsuit would be easy to get hold of." Aves said, leaning in slightly to study the image. "Nice subtle little pointer if you're trying to blame the Rebellion."

"Has there been anything from confirmed Rebel sources in the last hour?" Karrde asked, watching again.

"No, and you want to know what else is weird? This one has most of, but not all, the official coded authenticity bursts at the beginning and end." Tapper said.

"So this is mostly, but not completely legit?" Karrde drawled sardonically.

Aves was right though; strange that it would be the Rebels who did this, not so very long after Fondor. And it really wasn't their style; by and large, he believed they pretty much meant all that talk they put out about the higher values of the Old Republic…would they really beat a man unconscious and then proudly paste it all over the HoloNet? No; didn't ring true.

"HoloNet's lit up like a hyperdrive from here to Amuud," Chin said distractedly. "They reckon it'll collapse soon."

"I'm surprised they haven't shut it down already." Karrde murmured,

How were they even holding him? You wanted to hold a Sith, you sure as hell needed a very special cage… _A cell to hold a Sith_…

Karrde abruptly remembered the discussion he'd had with the Emperor half a year earlier, when he'd first heard that there was a request out for a set of blueprints detailing a cell installed on the SSD Executor. A very special cell. The Emperor had given Karrde a set of the plans to use as bait to lure out the buyer. Karrde remembered claiming at the time that he'd thought it may well be the rebellion—and they had seemed the obvious choice…at the time. Now, after Fondor, Karrde wasn't so sure. He felt abruptly relieved that the deal to supply the buyer with the plans had fallen through and this was none of his doing, even unintentionally.

And speaking of intentions; Karrde turned quickly, looking to Aves. "The contact about the cell, where did we get the word to go?"

"What?" Aves frowned, thrown by Karrde's out of the blue question, his eyes still drawn by morbid fascination to watch the short replaying of the image from the HoloNet as it repeated over and over again.

"The plans for the cell, remember—we made contact, we got co-ordinates, a meet was arranged to drop them off, then the buyer cancelled…where did the buyer's comms come in from? Ghent put a back-door in the relay station."

"I can check." Aves said.

"Do that." Karrde said. "And Aves, while you're at it, start putting some enquiries out. The Corellian—the one who we took off the Patriot a few years back…"

There weren't many Rebels Karrde knew—it would, after all, be a tad of a liability considering his primary client—but he had the name of one, and as it turned out the one he actually knew and who knew him, had ended up pretty close to the top of the pile.

"Solin? Or should I say Solo." Aves said dryly.

They'd done a few checks of course—kept a few useful images from the internal security system of the _Wilde Karrde's_ shuttle. Turned out Lieutenant Solin was actually one Han Solo. Turned out he seemed to have more than one allegiance, which was rare for a Corellian. Karrde had kept an eye on Solo after that, curious as to what exactly was going on, and everything he'd heard pointed to the man being a Rebel Commander with what seemed like very highly-placed acquaintances on the either side of the divide.

It also seemed to Karrde that without the Emperor to make direct contact with, he had little to no chance of making the some Imperial bureaucrat or dyed-in-the-wool career General listen to him…but he was willing to bet that Solo would, because every Corellian knew that in a tight corner, you took help wherever the hell you could get it. "That's the one. He flies a YT freighter named the Millennium Falcon. Find it."

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	40. Chapter 40

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Luke came round slowly, struggling to surface, exhaustion and confusion dragging him back down as he blinked tired eyes. He moved just slightly, and the pain sang up his side and into his skull, making him gasp and tense against it momentarily, waiting for it to peak and subside.

Seconds ticked by as he counted down from a hundred, bright scarlet and white flares flashing in his vision, hands pulled to tight fists as they trembled against…_marker!_

His hands balled tight, Luke had felt the finger-long shard of broken plasteel he held pressed into his palm and remembered that he had to mark the day…or had he done so already?

He needed to keep his sense of time. Here, with no natural light, it was difficult to mark the days, no way to judge when one day was up, and he knew he needed to keep that clear because Leia said he had fourteen days when she was here—or was it nine days… The drugs were beginning to take their toll and his mind was lapsing into long stretches of disorganized, exhausted confusion, so that he struggled to pull the relevant facts up now. Nine days or fourteen? Fourteen days…yes, fourteen, but she had said he'd had only nine days left _out of fourteen_. Yes, nine days—how many days ago was that?

Again Luke remembered the plasteel shard in his hand and his fingers reached out to the hard metal edge of the canvas bunk he was laid on, a trail of deeply scratched lines rough against his fingers in the darkness, counting carefully… Fourteen lines; he'd been here seven days, plus today, which meant there were… the momentary mental pause stretched, and Luke let out a laugh in the darkness at his own inability subtract eight from fourteen. His ribs ached against the action, shoulders spiking in pain, but he couldn't stop, loosing silent, hitched breaths as he tensed against stabbing twinges.

All this; all this caution and vigilance and planning, all these armed soldiers and strict procedures laid in place, all to hold a man who was, in this moment, incapable of basic math. It seemed insanely surreal, ridiculously amusing…

Somewhere at the back of his mind a small, logical voice said that this was the remnants of the drugs in his system. That this wasn't funny at all; that if he didn't get a handle on it, it would kill him…but it still took a long time for his silent, racking laughter to die down so that he finally stared ahead in the absolute pitch darkness, no idea whether his eyes were capable of focusing or not. As he thought to lift his hand before his face, he remembered again the shard of plasteel and the reason he was holding it.

How many days? Seven days; it still made him grin insanely, mind grasping at anything to deal with this situation.

Seven days; seriously, concentrate…seven days marked down. But he was still holding the shard in his hand; was it because he'd just scratched today's line into the bunk, or because he was still intending to do so?

No; he always hid the shard right away; he mustn't have used it yet or he would have pushed it back under the rough blanket to hide it with the others. He knew—he _knew_—how important it was to mark the days, to keep track. Hard though, here.

Food and water came irregularly when it came at all, and the lights of the cell were turned on and off at random, either glaringly bright or completely absent for hours or days without order or reason. But Madine, regimented man that he was, always came in twice a day, early morning and early night, Luke suspected, so _he_ had unknowingly become Luke's clock; every time Madine came with the interrogator, when it was over and Luke was dragged back across the cell and chained onto the heavy bunk by his ankle, he would wait until he was left alone then fumble beneath the crumpled blanket for one of the half-dozen or so shards he'd retrieved from the vo-corder he'd shattered days ago, to scratch a single line into the rough metal of the bunk frame as soon as he could. Sometimes that was minutes later, sometimes it was hours, if the drugs had been bad or they'd tried a second dose, but it was something he _had_ to keep in perspective. If he lost that, he lost everything.

_Lost everything_… For the first time in too many years, Luke felt like he had something to lose here, and before that fear, the threat of a slow defeat by the drugs was terrifying. Palpatine had used them often on him, but only to subdue, or keep him talking, keep his tongue and his mind loose. Still, he'd learned the techniques to counter them; had taken the time to get to know about such things. But this was different; because now he had something to lose—and someone trying to take things away.

It had never, ever been a game, but for years he'd always worked hard to play tricks with his own mind to hold onto his sanity; told himself that really, he had nothing at all to lose save his life, and as his old Master had said so very, very often, that was nothing. Now, a flare of titian red hair lit the darkness at Luke's thoughts of Mara. Of his son.

Laid hour on hour in the darkness, mind untethered and adrift, searching for some anchor, for something to believe in, something to cling to, he'd come to rely more and more on Mara. And that was a terrible thing.

Because again and again, his tangled thoughts recalled those last few moments they were together; the look in her eyes. Even though at the time he'd though that his words to her—that she should leave because she was the only one capable of rescuing him—were spoken for no other reason than as a persuasion to get her out of there safely, that wasn't the whole truth.

Because he knew _absolutely_ that if there was any way in the galaxy that she could find him and get back to him, she would. Now, with all else stripped away, he realized that completely. And what should have been a moment of triumph in realizing just how much he truly trusted her, had transmuted into a bone-deep fear that she'd try to live up to his accidental admission of trust; that she'd come for him, and put herself and their child under Madine's gun.

Worse, now Luke could unknowingly give Madine that target in a few words uttered from a drug-haze. That fact, that fear, flared again in the darkness and Luke clamped his jaw against it, terrified that it would become a self-fulfilling prophesy; the more he thought of his fear of revealing it, the more it remained in his thoughts, and the more likely he was to speak it.

_Stop thinking about it then; stop thinking about her..._

Luke turned over in the darkness, his barked and blistered ankle smarting, the binder there cutting into his skin whenever they used it to drag him forward or yank him awake, the open wounds beginning to infect in places, burning now. If he could just soften the edge of the heavy metal binder—Luke's thoughts went immediately to the only soft object in the room; the blanket he was laid on right now, too tired to bother covering himself despite the cold. Could he tear a strip to wrap about his ankle and…a slow smile came over his face as he glanced blindly across the pitch-black cell to the unreachable door…

Turning away from the lens at the far side of the cell, he reached with trembling hands between the canvas bunk and the metal a-frame of his bunk, and slid the anti-surveillance scrambler free. Quickly he lifted his hand to the side of his face as if resettling…and put the scrambler into his mouth, taking a few seconds to subtly position it between his back teeth. Then he counted to a hundred, so his movement was forgotten.

Without moving visibly, he bit lightly on the scrambler, activating it. Almost immediately the lights of the cell came on, but it took a good minute for the powered locks to release the vacuum between the doors and two soldiers to enter…then they were in the room, blaster rifles drawn.

Luke turned slowly to sit up on the edge of the bunk, blinking as if just waking as the first man in trained his blaster. He knew his name…what was it—_think! _Tinel; his name was Tinel.

The man lifted his blaster to ready-position. "Just stay right where you are. Keep sitting. Hands out where I can see them."

The second man, clearly on a comlink earpiece, went straight to the lens. "Caro, how's that? You got anything?"

Squinting in the light, Luke listened to one side of the conversation, keeping his face suitably confused, the small scrambler still between his back teeth. The second soldier pulled slightly at the short cable which went from the back of the lens into the curved wall, then paused. Finally he gave the lens a heavy blow with the heel of his hand—and Luke bit down just slightly, deactivating the scrambler in his mouth.

"Yeah? That got it?" The man backed off, waving a hand before the lens, and Tinel risked a glance back.

"Working?"

"Seems okay now."

Watched by Luke, the two soldiers backed out of the room, the lights dousing as they did so. Luke watched the door in silence for long seconds, then turned and lay down again.

He waited as long as he could stay awake before doing it again, the scenario running exactly as before. But this time when surveillance was down, listening closely to the staggered, grating release of the powered doors and judging the guards' entry time by their delay, Luke risked heaving the bunk's substantial weight about three inches closer to the door before throwing himself back down as if asleep.

When the soldiers had left, believing the fault corrected, he carefully hid the scrambler in the angle of the metal bunk frame as before and tried to get some sleep.

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Mara lay wide awake in bed, staring at the soft shadows of the coffered ceiling in the cool darkness of the night, the hour so late it was early. She and Nathan had called it a night an hour or so ago, with messages of solidarity and support still amassing in ever greater numbers, and Mara had stayed in Luke's apartment to slink into his silent bedroom and slide beneath the covers of his bed, hoping that at least here she could sleep.

Instead, in the still silence and so close to all that reminded her of him, the images from the holo played over and over in her mind until her throat locked with stubbornly-unshed tears. Seven days, it had said

She couldn't do this…she _couldn't be here_ in the Palace, having seen those images. She knew what it meant to Luke that someone he trusted was in command, keeping watch…but it couldn't be her; it just couldn't. Not this time, not like this.

Nathan was right; he'd placed her in power for a reason, one she'd never really considered before; one that she wondered whether even Luke had looked at too closely.

He had faith in her; faith that she'd honor his goals and intentions. And she did; more than that, she _shared_ them. She knew that now.

Now…too late to share that awakening with him.

Here, in the detention centre beneath the Imperial Palace, at the very centre of the old Empire that she'd served her whole life, staring at Wez Reece, a man whose views and actions personified the old regime, she'd had an epiphany.

She didn't want the old Empire any more. She didn't want a society where narrow-minded men like Reece prospered at the cost of others; where those like him were encouraged to do whatever was necessary to maintain that absolute Imperial State without conscience, believing themselves and the regime they upheld above the law. She didn't want it back.

So it was no longer a question of trust, proud as she was to finally hold it, determined as she was not to betray it. It was a question of _belief_, of realization that they were her own wishes too… Which made her decision that much harder. Because still…_still_ she couldn't do this.

At any other time—any at all—Mara would have knuckled down and got on with it. Would have opened that damn file, followed it to the letter and made in his memory the Empire Luke had given so much to guide into being. But this was the one situation he _hadn't_ planned for, the one situation that Mara couldn't accept. For herself to be in power whilst Luke was still alive.

For her to remain here, helpless, whilst the realities of changing an Empire, even for the better, ripped them both apart.

Of all the ways she thought she'd lose him; years of his surviving at the very edge with Palpatine, disobeying and deceiving and just plain ignoring him for no other reason than to goad a response…all those hours and days and weeks spent in Nathan's medi-centre listening to the steady pips of a life-support machine while Luke remained comatose… She glanced to the darkened balcony beyond the bedroom doors, remembering vividly the flash of horror at watching him step off from the it—just stepoff into empty air one hundred-forty-four story's up, _assuming_ that Mara would get there in time to grab him! Moments…so many moments when she'd thought she'd been so close to never again seeing him, never again hearing his voice, his laugh, his quiet, dry wit. All those moments…and not one had prepared her for this. For those images. For the fear and the fury which alternately scalded and froze her to numb indecision.

Seven days…

And now this, this final spur; the brief message from Leia Organa, Commander in Chief of the Rebellion, denying connection or endorsement or any part in the whole debacle.

And wasn't that what Luke had said, on that last day—that she had helped him, that she'd told him of the trap?

To Mara's mind that meant Organa had known about the trap and not informed Luke earlier, but if he'd wanted revenge he would have taken it at the time; Mara had seen what Luke could and would do to those he believed deserving. Had watched more than once when anger or provocation had finally slipped the leash on Palpatine's wolf; had privately wondered what, if any, control he'd had when he did so.

She questioned again why he'd waited there in the _Wasp_ for Organa to come through; why he seemed always so patient with her, so tolerant. He trusted so few people—why her, the leader of the Rebellion against him? Of all people, why trust her?

The message from Organa had been a private one professing personal regret, her voice charged with that same mix of earnest sincerity and absolute commitment that so often animated Luke's own. Perhaps that was why he trusted her; because despite their political disparity they had always been kindred spirits, even Mara could see that.

For all of that, Mara could remember only a few words of Organa's brief message, one single fact overriding all else…because at the end of it had been a contact frequency.

A way to get to _Home One. _Or to the same system, at least.

If even one Imperial Star Destroyer showed up, Mara was pretty damn sure the Rebel vessel would be gone before they'd even opened a comm channel. But it hadn't escaped her mind that she could easily send six or eight Interdictors in first, strategically placed about the system, then take in Star Destroyers with guns blazing, crippling the Rebellion's elusive headquarters and taking any remaining Rebel leaders hostage, offering their release in exchange for Luke. Then the impossible task of trying to track one man at one spot on one planet in a galaxy of stars would all become academic. But even as she'd calculated the strategy, Mara knew she wouldn't do it, because that voice at the core of her being kept on asking the same question;_ "What would Luke do?"_

And it sure as hell wouldn't be that; would probably be the polar opposite, in fact. Because Luke's words, mingled with the sharp, charged _crack_ of close blaster fire in the landing bay that final day, still reverberated through her thoughts; _"Don't let this derail it, Mara. Don't let a few radicals destroy seven years of my life and everything I was pushing toward." _

What she needed was a line of action which was more in line with the iron will and quiet voice that Luke had so often employed with surprising results in his dealings with the Rebellion. What she needed was a different strategy—and she had one. But to achieve it she needed help from the one person she'd never thought that either she or Luke needed, the one person in the galaxy that she'd never thought in a million years she'd ask for anything, let alone this.

.

.

.

Kiria D'Arca had retired to the privacy of her opulent apartments for the night when Mara arrived, but she rose immediately, entering the waiting room in a richly-embroidered dressing gown of deep ruby red, her long black hair falling loose down her back, dark, almond eyes blinking rapidly awake.

"You have news?" It was instant, her fear; as dense and intense as the crimson robe she held in bunched gathers about her.

"No," Mara said quickly. "No news."

D'Arca didn't know about the message from Organa—right now nobody did outside of Intel.

For a moment the Empress seemed to wither, hands pulling tighter, head falling. Then she pursed her lips and lifted her gaze, her face that perfect, neutral mask. "Then you have some reason to be here?"

_Oh, this was going to be hard._ "In the event of his absence Luke left stewardship of the Empire in my hands…"

"I'm well aware of that, Madam Regent."

Mara clamped down on a sharp retort. "I was thinking…about what you said earlier—"

"I have as much right of be at those meetings as you do."

Mara halted momentarily thrown, "What?"

"I have as much right to be at those meetings as you do, and I won't be sidelined, not even by the Regent."

Fierce, unyielding eyes held her own, and for once Mara recognized the value of that. D'Arca was tough and she was smart and she was cool under fire, gracious even, in a way Mara would never be. The perfect Empress. And right here and now, that didn't seem such a bad thing.

Because Mara had a plan—and, Force forgive her, but right now it was more important that Luke's.

She shook her head quickly, not wanting to be derailed, "No, I'm not talking about the Chief of Staff meetings."

D'Arca settled just slightly, "Well then?"

Mara sighed, returning to the argument she'd run countless times in her own head now. "I gave my word to Luke that I would be custodian in his absence and now…"

"You're finding it difficult to hold to that promise."

Had it been so obvious? "What's happened…it was all my fault."

D'Arca frowned, "You fault?"

"I was bodyguard on the day. I shouldn't have let myself get separated from him. I was trying to call in help."

"No you shouldn't," D'Arca said firmly—then her voice softened fractionally. "But I've read the debrief report; there were…extenuating circumstances. Wez Reece should never have been on that gunboat. We both know that he should have already been in an Imperial cell."

"But the fact remains; I was with Luke. I was responsible—and I should do something about it."

"As far as I am aware Madam Regent, you are doing everything in your power. If I believed for one instant that you were not, I would consider it my duty to tell you such in no uncertain terms."

"I was thinking about what you said—about relative strengths. About Luke always expecting those he trusts to act to the very best of their ability…and that's what neither of us are doing right now—not even nearly. You can make all the speeches you want—and I'm not denying that last night's was an impressive one—but that won't find Luke and it won't get him back. And it can't continue like this."

"I think you underestimate the assets that the Emperor has left you, Madam Regent; he has assembled everything that you need to continue. The Emperor was a very astute man. He took great care to surround himself with every facet of aid that he believed he would need in his intent to hold the Empire together through any test. I look at the people who attend your meetings on a daily basis and I see General Arco, who will always step back and remain detached because he knows that this will net the very best analysis of this or any complex problem. I see Commander Clem, who will staunchly hold firm and do his duty no matter what, very much the view of the establishment. I see General Reiss, promoted on his merits and not his connections, always pushing for action and, despite his rank, very much reflecting the view of the average military man, I see Admiral Joss, the tactician who forever looks to the greater picture and views all things in terms of objectives and results, the quintessential Officer. Closer to him, I see Nathan Hallin who keeps his sharp wits well hidden and is forever the civilized conscience. And I see yourself…"

D'Arca paused, back straight, the unfaltering Empress, those dark, smoky almond eyes softening not a whit…which made her next words that much more surprising.

"You keep his feet firmly on the ground; you question everything, you push him constantly, yet…I believe that you are completely, unconditionally loyal—though not necessarily in the most appropriate ways. And I see myself—a conduit to the mindset and the support of the most influential beings in the galaxy, with the political and judicious aptitude to use this in his support. For that reason, I will _not_ allow myself to be removed from this equation. We are neither of us here for our ornamental value, Madam Regent, I promise you that."

"Do you have point?" Mara said brusquely.

"I am saying that even we can work together well when the situation demands, Madam Regent, because like everyone else in the Emperor's close entourage, we were always meant to. He was, as I said, a very astute man."

"Have you finished?"

Kiria paused just a moment, her poised confidence unaffected, "Yes, I believe I've said everything I wish to say."

"Fine, then listen." Mara lifted her chin, "Firstly, he still _is_ an astute man. But the fact remains; he didn't plan for this. Maybe you're right, maybe Luke did assemble this team to continue his work if he were to…if he were gone. But he's not. He's still alive, and I can't be here any longer knowing that. As long as he's alive, I cannot do this. This is _not_ my strength. I should be out there, getting him back. _That's_ my strength; I trained for years as a soldier in Palpatine's Royal Guard, trained as an infiltration specialist, as an assassin, undertook covert operations working outside of the usual bounds.

D'Arca remained silent, so Mara pushed on, "I have a plan, and I should be the one to follow it through…but I can't do that from here. You're…you held it all together without the public even knowing until Madine put out the images…" Mara paused for a second; _last chance to bail_. "Luke…he told me that you'd gone to him with your suspicions about Wez Reece. He told me he trusted you."

"_Kiria said," _that was what Luke had told had taken that information to Luke when she could so easily have remained silent; could have allied herself with a man who was offering to invest her as Empress in deed as well as name. Could have simply remained silent and waited to see what happened, giving empty lipesrvice to both sides. But instead she'd taken that information to Luke. She'd backed him—was very visibly doing so again in the present crisis, putting her name and her House and her political savvy behind an absent Emperor.

She may be the best actress in the world—Force knew, Mara wouldn't put it past her—but Luke had invested Mara with vision beyond sight, skills that were still growing and now, thrown together daily by this crisis, Mara _knew_ what Kiria D'Arca was truly thinking and feeling—and she _knew_ why Luke trusted her.

"I…need you. I need you here, the stateswoman, the public face, the diplomat, doing what you do best…then I can do what I do best. Because I can't do that from here."

Ever the consummate politician, D'Arca watched Mara steadily, face a mask. But her eyes—this close and free from make-up, Mara could see that they were glassy, rimmed in red, dark from loss of sleep, just like Mara's own—and that was what gave her the faith to push on.

"We each have our arena. Yours is here, stabilizing Luke's Empire. Mine is out there, making sure he gets back to see it. I'm asking you to take over the Regency."

Kiria remained silent. Mara had expected her to grin, to gloat, to show some kind of pleasure, however hidden, at the attainment of absolute power. But in the moment she simply stared, lips pursed, brow puckered into a frown.

"You'd hold executive powers," Mara said. "You can't rescind, change or redirect existing policy, but you'd be acting Head of State. You'd be the public and political face of the Empire and this crisis. You'd be…what we need right now."

Kiria's chin lifted a fraction, "Understand this; if you give me power, I shall use it. To Luke's aid—always that—but I shall use it as I see fit."

"Fair enough." Mara said. "I'd expected no less. But you understand this—you try anything, anything at all, any attempt to usurp, claim or redirect power, and that's it. I will come for you. If you give me reason, when this is over, I will come for you. And don't think for one moment that this Palace will protect you, because I have lived and worked here visibly and invisibly my whole life, under the reign of two Emperors. No matter how tight you _think_ you have it locked down, I know easily a dozen ways to get in beneath the radar and move around freely even here, without anyone ever suspecting anything, and I _will_ come for you."

Mara held D'Arca's gaze, meaning every single word of what she'd just said, and the Empress met that stony stare for a few seconds more before tilting her head just slightly in acknowledgement without ever backing down.

"Fair enough."

.

.

The executive order was signed three hours later, with six witnesses, Nathan among them. The document had been quickly drafted, but it contained all the relevant details; Mara Jade, present executor of Imperial power, handed over the stewardship of the Empire in all its facets to Kiria D'Arca, until such a time as the Emperor returned. The transfer took less than fifteen minutes. Mara was aware that her hand shook as she signed the document, but in truth her mind was already on the upcoming mission; she fully intended to be gone at dawn.

.

Mara had already managed to retreat to the deserted Council Cabinet when Kiria—the Empress Regent—entered, motioning casually for Clem's ever-present bodyguards to wait at the door, as if it were something she had always done.

Mara nodded once, "I'll give you about two days."

"With what?"

"The guards—I'll give you about two days before they drive you insane."

"They are, I promise you, the least of my worries, Commander Jade."

The two women stared at each-other for long seconds, silently readjusting the status-quo.

"Whatever you need for your mission, contact me directly. Anything at all." D'Arca said at last.

"I will. You need to…there are some papers; legislature that was already approved by Luke but needs implementing. Changes to the Recognition of Inalienable Rights and the Custody and Detention Statutes." Suddenly all business, Mara was feeling insanely like she was leaving instructions for someone to care for her apartment whilst she took a break. "They're in the Cabinet's secure file system. They should have been enacted eight days ago."

Kiria pursed her lips, nodding once, "If they were part of the Emperor's planned revisions then they'll be implemented."

There was an unswerving finality to her decisive words. Mara nodded once, then started for the door. She was almost there before she turned about, pursing her lips as she took a step back, unable to let this go.

"Let me just clarify; this isn't an alliance in any way shape or form. It's a temporary truce, nothing more. When this is through, we go back to how we were. I still don't like you."

That flawlessly serenity remained typically unassailable. "I would say the same Commander Jade—but I really don't think about you that often."

"Just so we're clear on that," Mara said. "I don't like you, and nothing that's happened has changed that. I think you're a good politician, but before you congratulate yourself too much, I happen not to like most politicians. I think you're scheming and manipulative and have no idea how you manage to look yourself in the eye every morning when you put those layers of paint on and string black pearls through your hair, knowing that you're insinuating yourself into the life of someone who doesn't want you there but is too polite to say. I just wanted to clarify that."

"Really? Well since we're baring our souls, I find you're irascible, stubborn, opinionated, gauche, tactless and patently unsuitable as a consort."

Mara stared, eyes ablaze, and Kiria arched those perfect eyebrows. "However, you're also loyal, determined and, surprisingly, intelligent enough to realize the best course right now and actually commit to it." The faintest pucker lined her smooth brow as she tilted her head, unmoved by Mara's glare. "… Don't make me add 'wasting time' to your bad points."

"So when I get back, its business as usual."

"Business as usual," Kiria confirmed, holding Mara's eye.

"Fine." Mara nodded once and turned away. She was at the door before D'Arca spoke, always the one to get the last word.

"Oh and Commander Jade—until you actually _have_ the Emperor, don't bother coming back."

.

.

.

.

Nathan's eyes grew wide as the door to his apartment slid open to reveal Kiria D'Arca, flanked by two Royal Guards.

"May I speak with you, Commander?"

Nathan backstepped, uncertain, "Yes, yes of course."

He walked quickly into his apartment, followed by Kiria alone, aware that she was glancing about at the widespread disarray.

"Please forgive the…it's been a hard few days and…"

"Please don't apologize." Kiria said softly, the smallest smile touching her lips but never her eyes. She looked tired; drawn. Nathan had an idea he looked much the same.

She glanced to the ring she still wore on her index finger—Luke's ring. Nathan felt a burst of grief crush in on him at the memory of Luke's panic when he'd thought he'd lost it once before; sufficient that he'd been willing to face Palpatine down to retrieve it.

Kiria cleared her throat, but it gave no power to her voice. "I came because I wanted to be sure that you understood why Mara handed over executive power?"

"She's explained her reasons, yes."

"We both felt that this was the more prudent course, Commander; it was joint decision. Commander Jade's abilities lie elsewhere, and mine are here. Together we can ensure the best possible outcome to this…deplorable state of affairs."

Nathan frowned, uncertain why she was bothering to tell him this, "Yes, I understand."

"I hope you also understand that I will do everything in my power to bring the Emperor back safely. Absolutely anything, without hesitation. I consider that my duty and my privilege, as well as my responsibility."

"That's good to know."

She nodded, pausing just slightly, "To that end, I'd very much like you to tell me everything you know."

A wave of anxiety washed over Nathan, his thoughts immediately of Mara, though he kept his face straight and his voice steady. "There's nothing you don't already know, Excellency."

She sat, voice determined, "Then perhaps you'd indulge me by going over it again. I've already spoken in depth with Commander Jade this evening and she explained everything—her reasons, her responsibility, her failures. She very much blames herself, and I can well understand why. She now wishes to correct those mistakes, and for obvious reasons I would like to see that happen. To that end, I'd like to discuss the facts with you too—sometimes a fresh eye brings a new perspective."

Very aware that Mara would not have told the Empress one particular fact, Nathan went through everything; the trip out, the comm from Argot that came minutes too late, Mara's revelation as to Wez's betrayal. Everything. When he'd finished, he sat staring at his hands, fingers entwined and clasped so tightly that his knuckles were white, acutely aware that he could afford no slip about Mara's condition before the Empress's shrewd eye.

"… and there's nothing else?" D'Arca said quietly. "Nothing that could give us any lead, anything at all?"

"No, nothing."

"You're sure? Anything could be of value at this point, anything at all."

Nathan let out a ragged sigh, guilt at Wez's actions still gnawing at him. How had he not seen it? "There's nothing else—nothing I know."

"Anything here, since you've returned? Anyone else's actions that now seem out of place in respect of all that's happened? Anything that isn't common knowledge?"

Again nerves burned in his chest, thoughts on Mara. "No, not at all."

"Any contacts who may have been overlooked?"

Nathan glanced up, glad to move the subject on. "Luke uses a smuggler group, but I don't know how to contact them."

"Smugglers?" there was the barest thread of distain in her voice though she sought to hide it.

"Karrde; Talon Karrde. He's the chief, the only name I know. He was an information broker. Luke used them for intelligence; grass-roots stuff. They hired out the clean-registered small ships Luke used occasionally, but I don't think they ever knew what they were for. Luke's more cautious than that."

"Can you contact them—get their position—we could send troops out, bring them in."

"No. They had no set base and only Luke had the call codes. As far as I know they're not written down. Mara would have contacted them long before now if they were."

"We should follow that up. It may be nothing, but if they're mercenaries they're not above selling information from either side to either side."

Nathan shook his head, "No, Luke trusted them. He's used them for years."

Kiria tilted her head just slightly, "As few people as the Emperor trusted Commander, it clearly turns out that it was too many. As much as I have faith in his judgment, I think it only reasonable that we detain any and all of those under even the slightest suspicion until we have clarified their position. I'm sure you can understand the logic and the necessity of that?"

"I suppose." Nathan glanced down, nodding.

"Is there anything else, Commander Hallin? You were close to Wez Reece, you must know with whom he spoke regularly, his routines?"

"I really don't know more than I've already supplied Intel with. Right up to the day I didn't know." Nathan glanced about the devastated room, drawers still open, their contents piled haphazardly on every surface. "And…as you can see, Intel have been rather thorough in their checking of my apartment. Twice."

The Empress's dark eyes skipped momentarily about the apartment in realization, "Commander Jade authorized this?"

"No, actually it had already been done when we arrived back on Coruscant. Twice. Mara was the one who stopped them from search number three."

"And you haven't spoken with Wez Reece since?

"No," Nathan said quickly. "No, I…I went down to the detention centre with Mara but that was the day he told her about the vial, so it was all confusion after that. We needed to verify the viability of the contents."

"Of course," Kiria nodded. "Viability?

"The vial had expired over a year ago—self-replicating drugs tend to have a short shelf-life for obvious reasons, and this was a tailor-made drug designed specifically to control Luke. There may have been little or no study of long-term viability or deterioration. If this was the only sample Crix Madine had to go on, he may be synthesizing drugs from a flawed template, which could instigate any kind of adverse reaction from reduced potency to harmful degeneration.

Kiria nodded, "So you tested for this?"

"As much as we could. Everything to do with the drug had been destroyed at Luke's order almost two years ago, so we had no reference, no chemical breakdown to work from, nothing."

"But you have those results now?"

"We have limited results. In tests, the drug broke down in a sample of Luke's blood from my medical bank in around forty hours. It's fully effective for ten hours or so in the samples we tested, but after that it failed to maintain self-replication."

"And Wez Reece _confirmed_ that he passed this vial on to Madine."

Nathan nodded. "He knew Mara had held vials of the drug originally, when Palpatine was alive. He must have checked at some point; had…had time to break the safe in her apartment—we were occasionally here at different times, and Mara in particular was never away from Luke's side."

The Empress tilted her head down, a scowl setting fine lines between her eyebrows as she lapsed into thoughtful silence, remaining still and silent for so long that Nathan felt his own fragile nerves fray ever shorter before she finally looked up to speak.

"So, just to clarify, there was a tailor-made drug which was designed specifically to overcome the Emperor's ability to use the Force. A drug that was generated specifically for use against him." As she spoke, Kiria's tone and manner cooled and hardened to incensed accusation. "The Emperor quite rightly ordered all samples destroyed…yet Mara Jade not only kept some, but allowed it to fall into hostile hands…and then chose not to disclose that fact."

Nathan straightened, eyes wide, "But…you said Mara had explained everything!"

"I thought she had. Apparently not."

"Wait, it was a mistake, an oversight, nothing more."

"I see…and then she _accidentally_ failed to pass this information on to the Emperor's own Intel department—the unit which is officially in charge of this situation?"

Nathan shook his head rapidly, "No, she would have made the information available when needed. She simply didn't want the knowledge of the drug's existence to pass into the public arena. Luke had always been adamant that…"

The Empress was already rising. "It is a pity that neither yourself nor Commander Jade shared his caution—or failing that, the ability to execute a simple order."

Nathan stood, panicked, "You have to understand that Mara…"

"No, I don't think I do. What I understand are the facts—and they are that even knowing it could put him at risk, Commander Jade disregarded a direct order from the Emperor and then compounded that error by withholding its existence, further endangering the Emperor and compromising any rescue mission which may take place. Either one of those actions is a serious breach of trust."

"Mara wouldn't…"

The Empress was already turning away, anger hardening that delicate face, "But she _did_, Commander. And now I'm left to deal with the consequences. And deal with them I will."

Nathan set after her as she made to leave, "Wait! Where are you going?"

He hurried behind, following her into the main hallway hoping to diffuse this…and stopped dead, eyes drawn to the block of scarlet robes in the hallway beyond his door.

Eight Imperial Guards were now waiting to smart attention. It wasn't that which bothered him so much; even Luke often had two Royal Guards in tow. But the fact remained that when he'd first opened his door to her, there had only been two—and the four plain-clothes agents behind this wall of guards brought his gaze back to D'Arca with a frown of confusion.

"Forgive me Commander Hallin, I should have clarified earlier; I came here to inform you that you were being detained in the Emperor's name until your status can be clarified or a case can be brought against you on suspicion of aiding and abetting Wez Reece, a known insurrectionist. However, in recognition of your rank, past service and the trust the Emperor held in you, you are to be held under house-arrest. _Don't_ give me cause to reconsider this allowance."

Nathan stepped out slightly, "Wait—you're arresting me?! For what?"

She turned those guileless almond eyes on him, "Actually you were simply being detained, Commander. However, according to your own words, by negligence or device you allowed a dangerous, restricted substance to fall into the hands of a known subversive. Worse, you then intentionally conspired or aided in concealing that fact. Treason, Commander Hallin. You're accused of treason."

So shocked was he that Nathan stood in silence as she turned and walked away, only coming to his senses when she was halfway down the long, wide sweep of the grand corridor, two Red Guard and the four plainclothes remaining about Nathan's door. "Wait! I would never do that—you can't possibly think...!"

The guards closed about him, and one of the agents—Dyso, Hallin thought he was called—stepped forward to press against Nathan's chest, pushing him gently but firmly back over the threshold of his apartment, clearly uncomfortable but intending to follow orders. "Please remain within the confines of the apartment, Sir. Don't make us take action."

He pressed the release to close the door from the outside, stepping back into the corridor beyond as it slid shut, leaving Nathan alone.

.

.

Mara was busy laying everything she thought she'd need out on her bed to make sure she forgot nothing in preparation to be packed into a holdall when the call came through. Immersed in her task, she almost ignored it, but hope that it could be a lead sent her reaching for her comlink. On the ID bar, it said simply, _'9'._

Mara frowned, confused; it was one of the old call signs from when those around Luke had felt it best to keep their identity hidden, the connections scrambled and coded. She was pretty sure that this one was Nathan's.

"Nathan? What the hell are you doing using this frequency?"

"Mara, thank the Force! Listen– "

"Why aren't you using the internal comm system?"

"Because they've disconnected me—all my authorized comlinks are down. I remembered I had this one stuffed into an old boot in my closet. Listen to me–"

"Your comlinks are down?"

"Listen! Kiria was here, just a few minutes ago. I think I'm under arrest for treason."

"_What?!"_

"Mara, I think she's coming for you. You need to get out of your apartment."

"She wouldn't dare."

"….. Oh, she looked pretty mad when she left here."

"Why would she be coming for me?"

"Because I…I told her about the vial."

A lead weight hit the bottom of Mara's gut, leaving her cold. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm sorry—Mara I'm _so_ sorry—I thought…she acted like you'd spoken with her, she said you'd explained _everything, _that she understood now. I thought you'd told her. I didn't know, I didn't know she'd do this, I swear. We were just talking…I was just..."

Mara was rushing now as she spoke, pulling the rest of her gear together and stuffing it into the holdall, "Nathan, why, _why_ would I tell her of all people that? Why would I tell _anyone_ that until I had to?! I ought to come over there and bounce you off every wall."

"I wish you would, I really do. I might feel a bit less guilty. But there's no time, you need to get out. Get out of the Palace. Now."

.

.

Nathan paced alone his empty apartment, knowing that he'd be the last to hear anything, even if Mara did get out. If she didn't and they caught her, they'd be back pretty quickly, he figured. Either way, it seemed likely that he'd be in the detention centre before the night was out, come to think of it. Irrationally, he paused, wondering what he should wear…

How long had it been? He glanced to the chrono on the wall; less than ten minutes—surely that wasn't _right_? He wasn't very good at subterfuge. Good grief, had it been like this all the time when Palpatine was alive? How had he coped? He was a nervous wreck—the slightest thing could probably–

A hand came down on his shoulder without warning, making Nathan jump a foot in the air, shouting out as he spun round. Mara lunged out for him and slapped her hand over his mouth, her head turning to the closed door. "Would you be _quiet_?!"

She lifted her hand away as Nathan was still heaving for breaths, his heart pounding against his ribs. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Passages." Mara whispered quietly. "You have an exit in the window return of your study—the moldings hide it."

"Seriously? How long has that been there!"

"Really?" Mara whispered dryly as she returned to her entry point, Nathan following her. "That's actually the most important thing going on in your life right now—that's the one thing you need information about?"

"Never mind. You got out okay?"

"Pretty much as they came in. Where's that comlink you were using?"

"I have it here. Mara," Nathan reached out to grab her arm as she reached the low, narrow entrance, his voice trembling half with fear and half with determination. "Don't leave me behind. Don't leave me here to watch, helpless. Let me come. Let me help. I deserve that much. He's my friend and I won't abandon him and nothing you can do will make me, so if you're intending to just shout at me a bit then leave, I should warn you that you're going to have to knock me out first because that's the only way you'll stop me from following you."

Mara turned nimbly inside the entrance to the body-width passageway. "That and the fact that you don't know how to open this door from your side when I close it."

"And that." He allowed quickly. "Mara please—please don't leave me behind. I have to come, I _have_ to."

Mara simply stared, face unreadable. "Are you finished?"

"Mara…Sith, Mara, let me come. Let me help—please."

"What the hell do you think I'm here for, nerf-brains?"

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It turned out that Mara's allowance didn't extend to her cutting him any slack in her rant as they made their way through shoulder-narrow passages, barely more than head-height, within the Palace walls. Fortunately both Nathan and Mara were lightly built, though she seemed to move with typical smooth grace, even here. As he fazed in and out of his telling-off, Nathan wondered idly if people in the vast, quiet corridors beyond heard the mysterious ebb and flow of a woman's irate voice in the empty hallways when there was no-one in sight, and perhaps put it down to a particularly irked ghost.

He should be feeling worse, he knew, but somehow a buzz of elation was rushing through him at the knowledge that they were on their way; after eight agonizing days waiting for Intel, they were finally moving. No leads, no news, but even like this, it felt good. Because if anyone could do this, anyone in the whole galaxy, then it was the woman jogging down the corridor ahead of him, furious and ferocious and radiating resolve.

"Are you listening to me?" she growled without slowing.

"Yes, of course I am."

"You realize what you've done, don't you? You've cut us loose; we're now operating outside the law and more importantly, without access to its assets. We're on our own. We're on our own with no access to incoming Intel and no manpower."

"That's really not good, is it?"

"What the hell possessed you to trust her?"

"Me?! You'd just handed the Empire over to her!"

"Because it freed me up to go after Luke with the whole damn fleet in tow! Now we have nothing. No resources, nothing."

"What are we going to do?"

Mara moved through the narrow corridors at a jog, Nathan rushing to keep up, breathless. "I'll tell you what we're going to do, we're going to call in that network that I know damn well that Luke must've had in place before Palpatine died. Chances are, everyone he trusted then will still be trustworthy now. They'll still be loyal to Luke and not the office of Emperor. You have a hell of a lot of comms to make as soon as we get airborne."

"How will we get airborne?"

"Commander Arco has a full unit of Intel ships assigned to him in their own landing bay in the North Tower—don't even _try_ to tell me that Arco wasn't one of Luke's allies. He'll get us an Intel ship with Intel authorization and he can keep it quiet—for a few days at least. Then we need a new ship."

"Is that why you broke me out—because I could get you access to that network and you knew you'd need it? .........Mara?"

"Please—if I'd wanted you for that, I'd have taken the comlink off you in your apartment."

Nathan straightened slightly, "I wouldn't have handed it over."

"I wouldn't exactly have asked."

"Well then why did you come for me?"

The figure sliding with nimble grace through the confined space before him was silent long seconds. When she finally spoke, her voice gave not an inch. "We got him into this together…we're damn well gonna get him out of it, you understand?"

A slow smile spread across Nathan's face, "I do…thank-you."

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	41. Chapter 41

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**CHAPTER FORTY ONE**

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They walked in and Luke roused, hands trembling, blinking at the rush of light. He'd not even nearly risen when powerful arms grabbed him and hauled him up and over to the table, pushing him down onto the chair and forcing his hands out before him, holding them tight as they clamped the binders around them though he hadn't the strength to struggle. He wasn't really together from the last session yet, his numb mind still tumbling in freefall, his chest still burning, limbs too heavy to fight as the medic Kalter walked in and straightened Luke's arm, the syringe already poised.

"This is not good," Luke murmured. "Not good, not good at all… This is not good."

"Just relax," said the medic. "There's no point in fighting it."

"You don't understand," Luke mumbled. "This is…don't push me to that edge…not good."

"Luke, you need to relax."

He tried to pull away, but the binders held him there as the medic worked. "It doesn't work, can't you see that, the drugs don't work because…I…st…"

Within seconds it became incredibly hard to say individual words, the concept of pulling a rational sentence together seeming insurmountable as his breathing slowed and every muscle fell loose. His head rolled as he slowly tumbled to the side, but unseen hands caught his flightsuit from behind and held him upright, head lolling.

Somewhere at the very edges of his consciousness Luke was aware of people talking, but trying to process what those words were was near impossible, each one lost to him the moment it was spoken.

Aware of the medic's eyes on him, Luke dragged a ragged breath into burning lungs as the room pitched and swam hideously, refusing to slow or stop. He tried to lift his hands to his head, but felt a jarring halt yank at his wrists and wondered distantly when they had tied them down; he didn't remember, couldn't summon even a fraction of the memory. All he could do was stare at disjointed images as he floated, the sound of his own trembling breaths filling Luke's ears.

Something…was important; something he'd been thinking about just moments before, something he knew he absolutely shouldn't say…someone…

It seemed hours—hour upon hour—before the medic leaned in again, lips phasing in and out of synch with the pale, reedy voice which emanated from them, as if from a great distance. "This is different, Luke—this is stronger, a higher dose."

Luke stared as a second face leaned in behind the first; some tiny, fragmented thought said, _Madine_.

They spoke, both staring at him, and all Luke could do was stare back as the room spun sickeningly, his lungs burning, every breath a struggle. He knew he was having to rally almost every conscious thought on taking the next breath, sure that if he didn't he would simply cease breathing, his lungs collapsing down and stopping, nothing he could do forcing them to draw air again…_concentrate; breathe…_

And still they just spoke on, staring at him as if… How long had they been speaking now—hours? Days? Was it a day? How long had he been like this? His mouth was painfully dry yet he had no concept of how to ask for water, how to string enough words together to make the sentence, no idea of how to swallow it if they gave it to him…

And still they were talking…still just staring and talking…how long now?

Words filtered through the thick haze as he stared. "…maintain...levels…"

"…dangerous toxicity…"

"Can't breathe…" Had he said that, words so quiet and broken? _Breathe…remember to breathe…_

"…come easier…trying...listen..."

Luke shook his head slightly in confusion and the world reeled again, his mind dulling further as the blood leached in a cold, seeping ebb from his head, leaving his skin numb.

"...on me." Kalter's hand reached in, seconds missing from the move as a hundred after-images strobed about it. One moment it was at the periphery of Luke's vision and the next it was close to his face, fingers snapping, incredibly loud. "…at me.

Luke, look at me. Concentrate on me."

"It…won't work."

Madine leaned in, face hard, the movement disconcertingly fast, causing Luke to recoil slightly. "Do you want us to give you more?"

"No, no more."

"Then tell me what I want to know."

"It won't work."

"Why?" The medic Kalter; too many people asking questions—too many.

"Because…" Once again, it became incredibly difficult to pull words and thoughts together, the drug's effects washing over him in waves.

"…codes from him—I know he…it." Madine's voice, clipped with frustration.

"Luke—Luke, look at me. Just me." Luke blinked rapidly as the medic leaned in, his movement disorienting.

"What shall we talk about, Luke? Let's talk about secrets."

His voice was calm and smooth and distant beneath the pound of Luke's own heartbeat as he shook his head, eyes lowering to the table before him, possessed of a desperate desire to collapse forwards and rest his head on it. But he knew someone would grab at his hair or his collar and shake him awake again; they always did. Instead he stared at the binders which held him, at the catheter which had been taped roughly to the back of his hand, at the part-used needle which rested on the table before the medic.

"Just the little secrets today, the unimportant ones. Things that couldn't possibly matter, you understand? These things don't matter."

Secrets; the word brought a touch of a smile to Luke's face, cracking drying scabs; he remembered—remembered the secret he had to keep. Mara—Mara and… Luke jolted slightly, glancing up at Madine. _Don't think about it! Think about something else. Concentrate—think about something else…_  
"Luke, look at me, not him. Luke—we need to talk about what you know."

_Secrets…Mara._

"Let's talk about numbers, Luke. I need a code that you know."

Momentarily Luke grasped at the question, at the chance it offered to turn his thoughts away from greater secrets…but weren't these secrets too?

He shook his head carefully. "No."

Kalter sighed, resting his jaw on his hand, elbow on the desk, and Luke envied him even this, when his own hands were forever bound and tethered to the table, pulling his arms forward awkwardly. The medic studied him for long seconds, and Luke clamped his lips, blinking slowly.

"Are you saying no, you won't tell me? You know that's not true, Luke. The longer we talk about them, the more likely you are to tell me—you know that."

"Perception…only..." Luke scowled, annoyed at the sluggishness rate that his own mind was dragging, aware of how slowly and deliberately he was speaking but unable to go any faster. "Drugs don't make you tell truth...they just make you talk. If I _think _they'll…make me tell the truth, then I'm more likely to tell it."

"These make you tell the truth. You know that."

"No…make me talk. _You _make me tell the truth—if you can."

The medic lifted the syringe from the table before him. "I think we'll give you a little more…"

"No—no, wait—wait!"

Kalter reached out and again Luke tried to pull back, but again the binders held him as he jerked away hard enough to bark fine curls of skin away where they dragged against his wrists. The drugs went buzzing through him and he let out a gasp, reeling, moments shuttering together with no concept of time, until that voice fazed slowly back in again, every other word lost.

"Do y…know how…long…been here…"

"Do _I_ know that?"

"Yes."

"It won't work." What was he denying? He couldn't remember….

"I want you to think of the codes again, Luke—the codes you know… Think of the code named the Doomsday Code. Do you remember that?"

_Codes! That was what…what they wanted. Had they asked already, or had he imagined it?_ "Doesn't exist."

"Yes, it does." Amusement in the medic's voice, patronizing and superior. "We know it's hardwired into the fleet, Luke. It can't be changed or overridden. It was a little insurance put there by Palpatine in case his fleet turned against him, we already know that—and we know you have it now."

"Too hard."

"No, I'm sure it's not. Just think of that one code—I'm sure you know it very well."

"No codes….. too many numbers."

"Too many numbers? No, you can remember this one."

Luke shook his head slightly. "Very long…got…."

"How long? How many numbers?"

"Very…v…" The drug was washing over him again, dragging him down like a riptide, nerves firing as he seemed to buzz, his skin crawling, reality falling back behind a darkening haze as his heart pumped loudly. If he could have, he would have brought his hands up to hold his head against the spin, but his limbs were too heavy and he had to concentrate again simply on breathing.

"How many numbers, Luke? You don't have to tell me the code, just the amount of numbers…that's safe to tell me. It's completely safe, I promise you."

"I…don't…"

"Just how many numbers—are they grouped?"

"…Yes."

"Yes? How many groups?"

Did that matter? If he told them, would that matter? He couldn't remember, couldn't comprehend whether that was important or not, knew only that he shouldn't tell them without quite grasping why. Was the code important? More important than…what? Something…someone...

"Mara."

The medic's face crawled to a frown. "What?"

Luke felt a slow smile take him. "Mara."

A second face leaned in, a blurred smudge. Madine; he shouldn't tell Madine…what?

"No, we're talking about the code—the Doomsday Code." Madine's voice was sharper, clipped with frustration. "How many groups? How many groups of numbers?"

"…seven."

"Seven groups. How many numbers in each group?"

"Very bad…."

"You?" That overbearing presence leaned away slightly, a grin splitting Madine's face open. "Yes, I suppose you are. Does it hurt?"

"… Burns."

"Burns? Painful, I imagine." There was no scrap of concern in that voice. "Would you like me to stop it?"

Luke grinned maniacally, ridiculously amused at the concept. "You won't."

"I will if you tell me what I want to hear. Then I'll stop it."

"If I tell…numbers you know it won't be...right ones." Had he said that? Admitted the thoughts going through his head: that he could give them anything, any numbers. He hadn't meant to—was he slipping?

"I'm sure you will, at first. But you know this won't stop until you tell me the right ones, and I know how much you want it to stop."

Luke smiled again. "Other questions."

"Other questions?"

"You'll just ask….other questions."

"Not today, Luke." Kalter leaned in again, voice so friendly and indulgent, when Luke knew it was nothing of the sort. "Today we'll stop and you can sleep. You want to sleep, don't you, Luke? You're tired, I can see that. You need to sleep. Or shall we continue…that would be bad, wouldn't it?"

"Bad…" Luke tried again to bring his hand up to his face, but it clacked where his wrist was chained to the table. "This is...bad."

Didn't they understand why? That they couldn't make an enemy out of him—not and live. Didn't they understand what he was—that if they pushed him to that edge, as Palpatine always had, he'd lash out?

The medic dripped hollow compassion. "Only you can stop this, Luke."

_"You alone can end this." _Palpatine's words, whispered long ago across grazed and bleeding skin, in a cell so similar to this.

_Palpatine…the cell beneath the Palace, pushed to the very edge of endurance… That memory, that mindset, that moment— The coppery tang of blood a fine mist in the air, warm on his skin, and Palpatine, so clear in Luke's thoughts that he could have been standing beside him now, grinning that death's-head grin, yellow teeth against bloodless lips. "We are the same, you and I. Didn't I always tell you we were?"_

Luke looked to the medic, trying to focus. To remember that face, to commit it to memory. "Oh, if I get the chance I'm gonna kill you."

"I don't think you're in a position to hand out threats, Luke."

"No…not a threat. Fact—I will do it. Too close…to that edge. I will do it."

"Stop it."

Luke grinned again; felt the split on his lip seep warm blood over chilled skin. "You're already dead—you understand that, don't you? Too close to the edge and you're a threat, and threats should be…never leave a threat at your back." There was no animosity in his voice, neither anger or blame, just the absolute knowledge of fact.

_"We are the same, you and I… It runs in your blood."_

"Luke, you're threatening someone who has the power of life and death over you."

Luke smiled loosely. "Dead…I'm sorry."

"Hey!" Madine's hand took Luke's jaw, turning him roughly about and making the room pitch and yaw sickeningly as Luke gasped against the chaotic disorientation, mind pulled from the moment.

"I want numbers—the Doomsday Code."

"No."

"Give him some more."

"He's too close to overdose." The medic…what was his name? Didn't matter; he was dead anyway. Just a matter of when.

"Do I look like I care?" Madine's voice came from the edge of Luke's perceptions, his frustration clear.

"Let me try something else. He's talking, he's just a little too together. Let's try some co-fralodiost."

The medic leaned forward to the catheter on Luke's hand as another bloom chased through him, making his skin crawl and his tensed shoulders drop as he closed heavy eyelids, awareness of his body numbing to absolute stillness. His hands were shaking—he couldn't feel it, but he could hear the binders against the surface of the table.

"Codes." _Madine._

"…No." Barely a whisper within a breath.

"Give him a minute, let it cut in."

_Tired…_

"Open your eyes—hey, open your eyes!" Madine slapped his face hard twice but Luke didn't react, rolling loosely with the blows.

"That's all right, let him keep his eyes closed." _The medic, cool and unmoved._ "Luke, tell me about the codes…seven groups. Are they numbers, letters, words? I'm not asking you to tell me the code, you don't have to do that. Let's just talk about what it's made up of."

"Equations."

"It's made up of equations?"

"One hundred…"

"One hundred equations?"

"One hundred…ninety-four, eighty-eight...eighty-two…" Luke fell back on the same technique, concentrating on counting down, knowing it would tune out the medic's questions…

Someone grabbed him and shook him wildly, hauling him halfway from his seat, and Luke opened his eyes, grinning into Madine's fury. "Seventy-six."

"You start with this again or I will turn you inside out, understand?"

"Seventy…sixty-four…"

Another slew of movement; something hard and cold pushed beneath his chin, pressing painfully inwards. Madine smiled, a scarlet slash across his blurry face. "I pull this trigger and that's it, no more Sith, understand? The line ends with you, right now."

Luke smiled slowly. "No."

"No?"

"Too late."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Luke laughed…

The blow came from nowhere, far too hard to be flesh and blood—a split second of scarlet flared brightly, then cool darkness.

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Kalter, who had half-risen when Madine had first grabbed Skywalker and hauled him upright, catching him a heavy blow across the temple with his blaster butt, watched the General throw him back down and storm from the cell. Leaning back into his own chair as he turned back to the unconscious man, Kalter dragged his fingers through his short-cropped hair, unsure whether he was frustrated or disgusted. "Frag."

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Luke came round slowly, the drugs still prickling through his system and making his skin crawl, the harsh lights of the cell painfully bright. It took awhile to force dry, gritty eyes open, the desperate need of his body to rest slowly giving way to the realization that the medic was still sitting in the chair opposite, watching him. He blinked dully, dragging himself back to awareness by sluggish increments. When no one tried to yank him upright, it slowly percolated that the medic was alone.

It was a gaping, indefinite time before he managed to haul himself up to sitting, weaving unsteadily, risking turning his head slightly to look about him.

"They're gone. They got tired of waiting," the medic said companionably. He tilted his head, leaving Luke with the impression that the room was slowly slanting the opposite way. "You're a very stupid man, you know that?"

Luke grinned, head still spinning, gravity tumbling. "Made him leave though."

The medic laughed lightly. "Yeah, you made him leave. You think he's not gonna come back again?"

"That's tomorrow."

The medic nodded, looking down in consideration, and Luke tried to rally his thoughts, aware of just how sharp this man was, recognizing distantly that he couldn't say the same of himself as he struggled to keep his eyes open, slipping repeatedly back into numb darkness and jolting awake again.

"That's an interesting method you have to counter the drugs," Kalter said at last, voice sociable as ever. "Where did you learn it?"

Luke smiled loosely, glazed eyes blinking repeatedly. "You think…Empire doesn't use them? Palpatine probably funded their development."

"But how did _you _learn it?"

There was, of course, only one way—the most obvious of all. "They used them on me—he did."

The medic frowned. "Who did?"

"Palpatine—in the cell underneath the Palace." The words were out before he'd even realized what he was saying, but the look in his interrogator's eye gave Luke a small burst of self-satisfaction before he turned away, unable to deny the intensity of emotions raking through him at those memories. "I hated that cell. I hated that room… I hated him. Some days that was all that kept me going. I didn't know…didn't know hatred could be a strength. He taught me that."

"Why would Palpatine drug you?" The man tried to keep his voice level but the shock was evident on his face.

Luke turned away, the room turning a slow loop as he moved, nerves afire. "Why did Palpatine do anything—for control, of course. If I questioned or if I refused or refuted, anything, he'd drag me back down to that cell…" He trailed off, lost in memories made intense by the drugs. "They came every hour, day and night. Every hour. Twelve; always twelve of them."

He felt distant, mildly curious, as if examining his memories as if from afar. As if they had no association to him at all. "After awhile you stop counting how many times…you don't make a noise, you stop even trying to react. You just curl up in a ball and wait for it to be over. See, the hollow bars were the worst. They had shock-sticks and force-pikes but it was the bars…" He let out a small laugh at this, at the irony that something so simple could outdo all the technology. "It's the hollow tip; takes gouges out of you—just takes big gouges out of your skin. And then Palpatine, arguing, tormenting, provoking, until you just…you can't pull a rational thought together; you just can't do it anymore—you can't do it. You stop even trying. Stop caring. You just…stop. That's how I lost him. Right there in that damn white cell that I hated so much—that's where I lost him." His voice faded, remorse pulling him down.

"Who did you lose?" the medic asked, voice hushed in response.

"Luke Skywalker." He let out the name with a sigh of regret, melancholy and empty. Fascinated though; this was the first time he'd let his own guard drop enough to even consider these facts.

"You think I'm Luke Skywalker, but Luke Skywalker died in a cell underneath the Imperial Palace six years ago. Sometimes I think… Leia says sometimes she sees the wolf in her shadow…she says she sees the wolf standing in her shadow and sometimes I think, if I turn around fast enough, I'll see Luke Skywalker in mine… But I never do. I lost him in there—left him in there. I wanted to care, to _feel something_, some loss…but I couldn't even do that anymore. There was nothing left. It was all bled away a little at a time, beating on beating. I remember one time, I had…my hands were bound and I remember Palpatine taking the cord and pulling it across the table towards him, and he said, _'You understand, don't you—that everybody breaks in the end. There is no if; there's only when.'_

"And I did, I knew that, but…as words. As warnings given to us as soldiers in briefings and lectures when I first joined the Alliance. But to be there…to be the one being taken apart hour on hour and day on day… See, I thought…I couldn't understand why he wouldn't just kill me. I thought he saw just one more Jedi; one more Rebel—I thought that was what this was; just torture and torment me until I died. I didn't understand, I didn't know what he saw when he looked at me."

"What did he see?" The medic's voice was less than a whisper, completely mesmerized.

"He saw himself." _Wasn't that obvious?_ "How could he not? He saw his past reaching out to become his future. He saw his Wolf. He saw Darkness and destiny and his precious Sith dynasty."

"And what did you see?" the medic said, moved to ask in spite of himself.

"In him?" Luke glanced away, drug-hazed eyes amused and distant, a lopsided smile pricking the open gash in his split lips. "It doesn't matter. The same, perhaps—it was the same in us both, you see, we circled round that same flame…Darkness and destiny. The truth was, it didn't matter what I saw in him. It didn't matter, because I knew that one day I'd destroy him. One day his precious wolf would turn. I saw what he hid—I'd long since turned his secrets and his soul inside-out and seen an old man who was afraid and desperate but unable to back off from a power that he thought he deserved, thought he could control. But I couldn't control it, so I knew—I always knew he wouldn't. So you see it didn't matter what I saw in him or what he did, because I knew what haunted his darkest visions, I knew what he was afraid of. I knew it was me. I knew just how dangerous that made him...but truthfully, from the first time I left that cell, he'd ceased to be what really scared me."

"And what was that?" the man asked in a whisper.

A feral grin came easily to Luke's face, the slightest laugh, the barest pause. "He always asked me, '_Tell me your worst nightmare; tell me what you truly fear. What do you see in the dark when your demons come?'_ I never told him…I never once told him what I saw, that one thing which haunts my own visions and nightmares, that one thing that _truly _scared me." Luke blinked slowly, eyes falling in consideration of his own words. "I never told him the one thing I really fear, that demon I see in the darkness…is myself."

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Kalter frowned, staring for a long time at the man before him who, drugged and bound and barely awake, had moved so effortlessly from powerless prisoner to brooding menace. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"From the moment I saw him, I knew I would." There was absolute, cold conviction in those detached, dispassionate words. "Maybe that was my flaw—maybe that was why I fell. I spent almost five years struggling against that; manipulations he'd wrapped about me like chains against my own _absolute knowledge _that I wanted him dead. I wanted to put a saber to his throat and ram the blade home. I wanted to be there—to be close enough to see the life dim from those yellow eyes. Wanted to know I was the one who'd done that. But every time I got even close to thinking about trying, he would drag me back down to that cell and beat it out of me. Year in, year out. Break me to pieces one more time…until I couldn't even remember what I'd lost anymore, let alone why that was important. But I knew...I still knew I'd kill him one day."

He turned to the face of his inquisitor, uncanny, mismatched eyes possessed of an insular calm and brittle composure. "He made me what I am, took everything that I was. Every hope, every future, he shattered the pieces and ground them to dust. Because they were nothing, he said; because I was nothing." There came the smallest dry laugh, no trace of humor in it, piercing eyes holding a disquieting clarity in that moment. "And now you think I'd be afraid to die…you think you can threaten me by saying you have the power of life and death over me. You don't understand—I'm already dead. I died a thousand times in a cell just like this…once more won't make any difference."

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It wasn't going well. The present Council meeting onboard _Home One _was only minutes in, and already the arguments were starting up. The response to the images of the Emperor from the galaxy at large had been pretty much what Leia had expected: universal condemnation.

Despite her own uncertainties, she'd done as Luke had asked when she'd first returned from their meeting, and argued long and hard with the Council to officially state that the Rebel Alliance had no part in the Emperor's abduction. But again and again the Council had cited greater responsibilities; that if they did this, they were effectively admitting publicly that there was a split in the Alliance leadership sufficient that one faction would take this kind of radical action without the other's knowledge or blessing. And they simply couldn't afford to admit to that kind of crippling weakness. Duty, they said, came first.

And what could she come back with, already torn herself, between the need to protect the Alliance and the knowledge that doing so placed Luke at far greater risk. Risk…this wasn't a question of risk, this was her brother's life.

And now this.

He'd known, when he'd asked her to disavow Madine. He'd known exactly how this would go. And so had she. But he'd still pushed Leia to make the split between the Alliance and Madine public as soon as possible, regardless of his own fate. But then she'd come to realize that the values of the man who'd risked and lost everything to save her at Bespin hadn't really changed so very much; just the lengths that he was prepared to go to achieve them. And even that was tempered by her knowledge that he was asking nothing of others that he wasn't himself prepared to give—because he knew that it would be his own death warrant if Leia had publicly disowned Madine. The memory of his words, spoken with absolute conviction as he'd sat tethered, battered and bruised in Madine's cell, came vividly to mind: "_You can't be associated with this, or everything we're trying to achieve will be lost—and I won't give that up to him, I won't let him take that away."_

She wasn't blind; despite all that had happened the wolf still stalked through her dreams and stood in her shadow, but now…now, when she looked into its expressive, mismatched eyes, a greater resonance tugged at her soul.

When Alderaan had been destroyed, she'd thought she'd lost any possible link with family. To be given this chance now—not just an adopted family, no matter how much they meant to her, but a brother, a twin brother—this was incredible, was everything to her. But she _couldn't _abandon that which she'd fought for her whole life—and Luke didn't even want her to. Somehow that made it harder not easier; that he wanted her to stand by her beliefs. That deep down, they were his too.

How could she abandon someone who was so much a part of her that he understood that?

She'd already sent a private message to Coruscant offering sympathy and denying any part in this. It had been Han's suggestion to send it to the red-haired bodyguard who had always been seen close to Luke; it was, after all, the same redhead whom Luke had trusted enough to bring with him to every meeting. The message had been unofficial and untraceable, made and sent from Tag's offices in the Intel department with no one else's knowledge, and even at the time it had seemed pitifully little.

Tag spoke out now with her dependable firm resolve, bringing Leia's mind back to the moment and the Council's discussion back to its roots. "I will say this, Sirs; I can pretty much guarantee that General Madine is no longer interested in a trial. He wants an execution and he wants to put it out over the HoloNet…and I think he's going to do it. He's already put…contentious images of the Emperor out on viral. He's already said that more will be put out soon. I genuinely think that the next set of images will be an execution. Do we really wish to be connected with that, by even the most tenuous association? Can we _afford _to be?"

"We're finally taking decisive action," Commander Odig, always a strong supporter of Madine, cut in.

"We're giving protection and credibility to a radical," Leia countered firmly.

"Backing an unlawful execution, if this goes ahead," Rieekan added gravely. "We should withdraw any tie or support whilst we still have that option… it already looks like a knee-jerk response."

Even knowing that it was Luke's wishes, Leia still squirmed, backing off from that ultimate option. "We cut Madine free now and we relinquish any and all control of him."

"He's no longer following orders or policy anyway," Ackbar said in husky tones. "He's effectively…"

"Ma'am?" An aide stepped into the council chamber, stopping when he reached Leia. And now—of all times, now—came the comm Leia had been waiting on for almost two days. "General Madine's made contact."

Leia straightened as the Council fell to silence. "Patch it through, Lieutenant."

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General Madine." Leia tried hard to have her tone articulate only cool confidence and not her abhorrence of the man who held her brother now.

The susurration which travelled about the Council Chamber wasn't nearly as discreet, and she realized that despite her personal feelings she may well find herself the mediator here, trying to hold this together from both sides as the Council grew ever less inclined to trust Madine.

The man himself sat tall and straight, the slight flicker of the holo hiding none of his self-assured arrogance. "Ma'am, Sirs."

Leia felt her hands curl to fists, fingernails digging into her palms.

It was General Gall who spoke out first, another ardent supporter. "General, you have my respect, Sir. You've put the Alliance's name on everyone's lips."

General Cotta turned to him, her manner frosty. "You seem to think that's a good thing, General Gall."

Gall straightened. "You think it's not? We've finally elicited some kind of reaction—the news is on everyone's lips."

"For the wrong reasons," General Rieekan said tersely, never one to mince words.

"Wrong reasons? How could this do anything but further our cause?"

"Our cause?" Rieekan asked. "Those…_images _were supposed to further our cause?"

"Those images and words were intended to light a fire under the dour complacency that has spread in the last few years, General," Madine said forcefully. "Both in the galaxy at large and the Alliance itself."

"They certainly succeeded, General," Leia said with feeling. "Though I question whether they were a little too…inflammatory."

"The words were spoken with strong intentions and absolute commitment, Chief Organa," Madine said, tone hardening. "We seem to have let such things slide under recent leadership."

Leia nodded. "It's a pity that all those strong words of absolute commitment failed even once to mention the Alliance's cause or intentions—that its fight is with injustice that the Empire embodies, not the man who…"

"The Empire and the Emperor are synonymous," Madine cut in forcibly. "We strike out at one and we deliver a blow to both. Are we so toothless now that we won't even take a stand for…"

"Forgive me," Leia countered, cutting Madine off with a conviction all her own. "But I served in the Senate, General. I know when my hand is being forced by divisive words…and actions. You made a public statement on behalf of the Alliance and now if we don't stand by it we lose credibility. And if we do, we lose integrity, and with it any right to claim connection or commitment to the values of the Old Republic."

"We have a chance to turn the path of the galaxy—permanently! We hold the Emperor!"

"We are all very well aware of that, General." Rieekan didn't even try to hide his disgust. "We have seen the images."

"You're seeing only what you choose to. Look at the bigger picture! Right now I have in my possession the means to bring this war to an end—a decisive end, in our favor."

"By murdering one man?"

"Murdering? Let's talk about murder—I'm bringing a mass-murderer, a dictator, to justice."

"Justice! What gives you that right to do so like this?" Leia asked. "Who gave you that jurisdiction?"

Madine turned on her. "Perhaps you should ask Mon Mothma that, _Chief _Organa."

"The man you're so very eager to kill didn't execute Mon Mothma, General. However much we dislike the fact, however wrong we know it to be in principle, he arrested her and passed her over to the state. She was under Imperial jurisdiction, not his."

"He _is _the Empire!" Madine was almost shouting now. "Whether he took her to her fate or did the deed himself is splitting hairs. He knew what he was doing—what the outcome of any circus of a trial they held would be."

"And are we any better, for doing the same now," Leia argued. "Less, because you have no intention of offering even some travesty of a trial, do you…do you?"

Madine's voice dropped to a low growl. "I wonder if you could explain to us why exactly it matters so very much to you whether I execute a known dictator, Chief Organa?"

Leia fell to silence at the unspoken threat, but Rieekan was quick to step in. "We would defend _any _life for its basic sentient rights, General. Even the Empire recognizes those now."

"Shams to pacify the masses," Madine dismissed. "The Emperor has no intention of relinquishing even a fraction of his power. He's a new face for the same old regime."

Ackbar spoke out, glassy eyes swiveling to the holo. "If they are shams, General, then he moves mountains to give them every possible reality. A cunning trick on his part, to abolish the Slave Edicts and reintroduce inalienable rights." He was more entitled than most to cite such things, Leia knew, his own race having long suffered under Palpatine's Slave Edicts. "This is a new Empire and a new Emperor, General—and I never thought that I would find myself in the uncomfortable position of fearing that it may hold the moral high ground. Because of _your _actions."

Leia watched Madine's face harden; watched his realization that despite his advocates, he was being frozen out. Watched any chance to bring Madine back into the fold, and so gain access to Luke, slipping away from her.

"I think we all need to calm down," she tried. "What's happened since Kwenn is an emotive subject which has polarized our opinions, but it's by no means…"

"Kwenn," Madine bit out. "Why don't you tell the Council what exactly you were doing at Kwenn Station that day, Ma'am?"

Leia raised her chin, refusing to be intimidated again. Because this was it; this was the line she wouldn't cross. Every single time she gave ground and backed down beneath his veiled threats, she strengthened his perceived position and weakened her own. She did the very thing she had spent her life refusing: she bowed to the bully—she held silent when everything in her told her to speak out…and she wouldn't play this game any longer. Wouldn't give him that power over her. "Why was I at Kwenn? You know as well as I do, Madine… I was there to follow up unofficial talks with the Empire—peace talks intended to lead to a summit between the Empire and the Alliance. I was there to talk peace with the one person who you yourself just admitted could be held as a true reflection of Imperial policy—I was there to meet with the Emperor…again."

The tumult was instantaneous, swelling through the Council in a surge, General Gall going so far as to rise, his chair toppling unheeded behind him.

Tag Massa was on her feet in a moment, hands out before her. "Sirs…_Sirs!"_

Leia held firm, jaw clenched, heart pounding as the uproar continued.

It was long moments before it died down enough that Massa tried again. "Sirs! This was done with the full knowledge and co-operation of Intel. _I _advised Chief Organa to hold back on telling the Council the details of a dialogue that was in its earliest stages. I stand by that decision. Due to ongoing security leaks, the sensitivity of the issue and the fact that we had nothing concrete to bring to the Council, _I_ advised the Chief to wait. She was acting on my recommendations."

Through her shock at the solidarity that Tag had unquestionably shown, Leia felt a thick pang of guilt shake her at the realization that if she went down, she would now take Tag Massa with her.

Distantly, she realized that in the first flush of commotion, Tag had leaned forward to pause the comline to Madine, so that the General's image had frozen, a smug air squaring his jaw as he'd stifled a grin.

General Rieekan was standing too, now, his hands out before him in a shushing motion, shouting to be heard. "Chief…Chief Organa, let me clarify this; you've _met _with the Emperor?"

The reasonable tone of his voice was almost instantly drowned out by Gall's outraged shout. "You actually stood in a room with him! When?"

Leia pointedly ignored Gall's outburst, keeping her eyes on Rieekan. "I've spoken with him, yes. That was why I was at Kwenn."

Gall was again quick to jump in. "Then I think we should all consider it very lucky indeed, Ma'am, that General Madine was able to intervene when he did."

She couldn't let that one pass. "What exactly are you saying, General Gall?"

"I am saying, Ma'am, that the Emperor always plays his games over a larger canvas. I'm saying, not surprisingly, that the Emperor _cannot _be trusted—that he's a well-known strategist and a consummate liar. May I remind the Council again how he removed the Alliance's previous leader—there was no direct assault on a Rebel base; it was a lengthy, carefully constructed operation carried out over an extended period designed to lure Chief Mothma out into a vulnerable position. I am saying, Ma'am, that I am concerned that he may be up to his old tricks."

"If he'd wanted to arrest or remove me, he's had more than one opportunity to do so, General. I've spoken face to face with the Emperor on three separate occasions, discussing terms that would enable the Alliance and the Empire to come together to negotiate a cessation of hostilities, on the strength of the new rights and edicts already instigated since he came to power. He wants to do more—intends to do more—and he wants our cooperation."

"For what?" General Gall challenged.

"He wants his troops presently committed to the ongoing conflict to be turned instead to policing the continued slackening of the Imperial Constitution. To do that, he needs all actions against the Empire to stop. In return, he was offering concessions and a staged…"

"Concessions!" Odig's voice dripped chary dismissal. "What possible concessions could he be willing to cede?"

"He's already given us more than you would imagine. On our first meeting, I asked for proof of his intentions. On our second meeting, I was given the co-ordinates for a moon at Endor. When I arrived there, in orbit around it and protected by shields…was a new Death Star. I witnessed its destruction, offered by the Emperor as proof of his intentions. I asked for more; he gave us Fondor—a very public concession."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Leia didn't miss the fact that she was now defending the Emperor's actions before the Council—and yet she didn't stop. "Now I'm asking you the very question he asked me when we first stood face to face; I'm asking you if you can put old prejudices aside and take this one chance, take this step in the dark? I'm asking you, Sirs, which is more important, a chance at peace and democracy, or our own outmoded sense of identity in, as Admiral Ackbar so rightly pointed out, a changing Empire? I'm not saying we capitulate—never that—I'm saying we go to the table and talk. I'm asking which one of us, in good conscience, can refuse. A wise man once said, _'It's not what you call us and it's not where we stand. It's what we do which defines us'._ He was my…he was Bail Organa, and he gave his life for his beliefs. And I can tell you without a shadow of doubt that if he were here today, he would be the first to say that this is _right_; this is an opportunity as never before. It's not enough to have a goal…you _have _to find a path to get there. I believe that this is our chance—this is our moment, and it will never come again.

"Madine was right; in amongst all his bigotry and intolerance, he was right about one thing: we have a chance to turn the path of the galaxy. The question is are we brave enough to take it—are we big enough to look past our own prejudices, and take that first step in the dark? I confess, it took me a long time to look within myself and know my answer—and it's taken until this moment to know that whatever happens, I will never regret my choice. I'd ask you all to consider yours."

Leia took long moments to rest her eyes on every face at that table, then she turned and left the room, head high.

She was six steps down the corridor beyond before the shakes cut in.

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By the time she'd reached her office, Tag was already running to catch up. As ever, the Intel Chief didn't waste words. "The debate's continuing—I have to get back in there. Meanwhile, Madine's still on that comline. I'll cut the link when I get back to the Council room. You should take it in your office, try to talk him down. You probably have until the meeting folds and Odig or Gall get a discrete distance from the Council Chamber before he knows what went on."

"You think I can talk him down?"

Tag pursed her lips, and Leia knew that the discussion she'd just walked out of had been a breeze compared to the one she was about to enter into.

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Han stood as Leia entered her office close to the Council rooms. He was leaving shortly, Leia knew; he'd waited only to see if anything came of the Council meeting. "What the hell's going on in there, it sounds like a Wookiee wedding. I could hear the shouting from here."

Leia hesitated, looking to Han before she activated the comlink. So many times since she'd taken office, she'd told herself that she shouldn't allow her own feelings to rule her head for fear of losing perspective. Shouldn't allow herself to become involved at a personal level. Well, she couldn't get much more personal than this…and it felt absolutely, categorically _right._

"You should get the _Falcon _prepped, and I need to take this comm. I'll tell you what happened en-route."

Han was already two steps to the door before he halted. "Wait a minute…en-route?"

"You got a spare berth on that rustbucket you keep claiming is so very fast?"

"What about all that stuff you said, y'know, bigger picture, greater cause, larger responsibilities?"

Leia arched her eyebrows over fiery eyes. "It'll all just have to stumble along a few days without me. I'm going to get my brother."

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With Han gone, Leia activated the comlink and spoke immediately, giving Madine no chance to kick off. "Well, should I go back in there and tell them the rest? I'd like to do it to my own schedule, but if I have to, I'll work to yours—and I'll work damn hard to make sure I take all your little powerplays apart in the process."

Madine's eyes narrowed. "Powerplays? I haven't even started yet."

"Who the hell's side are you fighting on?"

"My own," Madine said, seeming very comfortable with that decision. "In view of recent events, I find I have faith in no one else's. And looking at things from that standpoint, I think that the convenience of our continued association is coming to an end. You are, frankly, becoming more of a hindrance than a help, and I have my own methods of dealing with those, as your brother will attest. Though not for much longer, I think. He too, is coming to the end of his usefulness. He has just one more purpose to serve."

Finally, now, knowing she could hold Madine back no longer, Leia issued the ultimate threat. "You do this and we'll disown you. We'll renounce you publicly. You do this and you're on your own, Madine."

Madine's face set hard and his chin rose. "Thank you, Chief; you've made a difficult decision so much easier. Because of old loyalties to Mon, I was struggling with my wish to resign my commission and thus hand a successful campaign over to a Council fool enough to keep you in power. And it will be successful; the Emperor's death will kick-start the war your docile Alliance seems unable to bring itself to muster without my intervention, and the information the Emperor carries would have supplied them with the means to end that war decisively. On their terms. Now you've clarified just exactly where I stand in this…new Alliance—and it is, as is so much of your Rebel Alliance, a deep disappointment but hardly any shock. I resign any link to the weak, pale little disobedience that the Alliance has become. I renounce any and all ties… I hereby resign my commission, Chief Organa."

"Wait! Madine…" But Leia was speaking to static, the line cut… along with any chance of controlling him. Sith, what had she done? Leia slumped forward, head in her hands; now they had nothing, no access, no control… Leia straightened quickly, realization pulling her from her despair.

She switched the comlink channel and Tag's voice came on reassuringly quickly. "Chief?"

Leia let out a shaky sigh, but when she spoke, her voice was firm and self-assured. "Tag, you need to have all of General Madine's access codes disabled right now. Everything. Seal him out of the system. Then we need to put out an official message stating that Crix Madine is no longer part of the Alliance. We don't advocate his actions or his intentions."

Tag frowned, the alarm in her voice tightly controlled. "He resigned?" She paused, calculating as ever. "…or was he dismissed?"

"By his own choice, the General's no longer with us—and we need to distance ourselves from his actions publicly."

Tag's voice tightened, her breath leaving her in a rush. "He's going to execute the Emperor." It wasn't a question.

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In her office, that first flurry of commands executed and wondering whether to put a watch on Madine's known supporters, Tag Massa slumped back, momentarily at a loss for what to do.

She pursed her lips, jaw tightening as she ran the numbers. They should go after the Emperor—she should persuade the Alliance to do it by any means. If they lost him…

A coded call came in on the private comlink in her desk drawer and she fumbled to pull it out, shocked that it had sounded at all, a brief flare of desperate hope firing through her. "Yes?"

"I have a clearance code," the unknown voice said simply. "Felucia, Kashyyyk, Dorin, one-one-three-nine-three."

Tag heard the tremble in her voice as she acknowledged the code. "Confirmation is Dorin, Dorin, Skako, five-five-nine-zero-nine. Who is this—do you have a safe identity?"

The unknown voice ignored her question. "Give me a report?"

Tag barely hesitated; she was that desperate. "Madine's cut free; resigned his commission. As of now, I have no way to access the General and no control or influence on his actions, short of trying to claim allegiance and join him. Do you have any updates?"

"Sith!" The channel broke for a few seconds, and Tag knew the contact was relaying this fact to others, then it reopened with a static click.

"As a matter of fact, I do," the woman's voice said grimly. "I need fine co-ordinates and a clearance code for _Home One_…and I need access to dock."

"Here!" Tag hesitated. "You understand that if I do this, my cover is blown."

"Just get me in."

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Leia sat in her office staring blankly at the opposite wall waiting for…something. Some miracle. Grief, let there be…

A knock at the door jarred her from her reverie and she straightened, blinking her eyes dry. "Come in."

Tag Massa entered, and Leia had never seen the woman look so afraid. She felt her own heart lurch, her mouth suddenly too dry for words.

"You need to come with me," Massa said, voice grave.

"Why?"

"You need to come with me, right now."

Leia rose, driven by the tone of Tag's voice. "Where are we going?"

.

They reached the supply hangar in silence before Tag turned to Leia, unsmiling. "I'm asking you to trust me on this. Talk to them—just talk to them."

Leia frowned, turning to glance about the familiar hangar…and there, in the far corner, was an unknown ship, a long-range scout-fighter hybrid. She walked forward without hesitation—was it bounty hunters, someone Tag thought she could trust…?

She got just two steps up the ramp before she saw the truth. A lithe redhead and a small, slight, olive-skinned man were standing tensely inside, eyes on the entrance. Leia went for her non-existent sidearm, tensing…

"Wait!" The man—Leia knew him as Nathan Hallin, one of Luke's aides—was already a half-step forward, hands out before him. "Wait, please."

Leia froze, eyes narrowing. "You have the _gall _to come here…"

"Chief, please—" Tag started, and Leia turned on her.

"And you! Letting them inside our shields! How did they even find…" she trailed off, the terrible truth occurring. "You…you gave them co-ordinates. When you sent my message, you added coordinates, didn't you? You actually gave an Imperial ship the co-ordinates of _Home One_. Did… Are you…" She couldn't even say it. How long had she known Tag—five years, six? "Tell me this is the only time."

Tag remained still, expression pinched and stony, eyes searching Leia's.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Leia couldn't believe she had the presence of mind to even speak. In all the years she'd known Tag, she'd trusted her; a gut feeling, a sense of shared purpose. "All along, it was you. You were the spy."

Tag shook her head. "I only…made my choices a year after The Heir surfaced on Coruscant—that was when he contacted me."

"Before that…?"

Tag shook her head again. "It was never him, Chief. Skywalker was never your spy...but I'm guessing you know that now. Your mole was a Communications chief named Leemarit."

"And you took over where Leemarit left off."

"Leemarit was Palpatine's spy. I only ever collaborated with the Heir—with Luke Skywalker—and I did so knowing that he had no intention of destroying us. I'm not a traitor, Ma'am, I'm a true believer—and I believe this is the way to accomplish peace...the only way. The loyalty I give to the Emperor is no less than the loyalty I feel for you and for the Alliance, and for the self-same reason; in the genuine belief that he will use it wisely. He told me that between you, you two would be able to broker a peace. He had—_has_—a vision and I trust him absolutely to bring it into being…and I see it as my duty, my mission, to do everything in my power to aid him in that. Don't think me a traitor, Ma'am. I was never that."

This was going too fast for Leia to absorb. Tag the mole… Tag, who had looked after Leia and backed her and…grief, she was backing _Skywalker's choice _for leader of the Alliance! That was why she'd looked after Leia so closely! That was why she'd become a confidante—to guide Leia's actions! To influence her choices!

"Did you ever believe in me?" There was simmering anger in Leia's words.

"Always, Ma'am. I have always believed in your vision and your standpoint. I always knew you had the strength to take us beyond the fighting."

"You betrayed me."

"I never once did, Ma'am. I always sought to protect and to aid you—and with you, the most basic tenets of the Alliance—"

Another thought occurred to Leia and she cut across Tag's words. "Why did you help him—you didn't even know…" she trailed off, and Tag nodded.

"I went on several missions with him when I was still a field officer, before I was recruited into Intel. I saw in him all that I see in you, Ma'am; all the same drive, the same honor, the same principles. The same intent. I was devastated when he was taken by the Empire. He didn't contact me for well over a year after he disappeared, and by that time I was already in Intel. But I'd known him, so I listened…I thought I owed him that. When I'd decided, well, I was in Intel—it was an easy job to scrub a few files and swap a few details so that officially, I'd never once met Luke Skywalker. Those were high-security special-ops missions we went on; practically no records were kept."

"Why did you listen?"

Tag raised her chin. "Because I didn't believe them—the rumors at the time. I'd fought beside him; you see people for what they are under pressure like that. You see them at their best and at their worst. I'd already trusted Luke Skywalker with my life more than once…and I believed I could trust him with my hope, my future and my galaxy. I _knew _him… that was what I did, Ma'am; I evaluated—intel, people; it's all the same…and even then I knew I was very good at it. And I didn't believe a word of what was coming out of Coruscant—but then, I had the luxury of choice. You were in a very different position. You were already being groomed for leadership and you couldn't afford that luxury of personal opinions, I understand that. I believed…I _still _believe I'm doing the right thing. Or maybe…I think Skywalker said when he first contacted me that he was asking me to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. That was what gave me faith; he knew his error, even then. He still does."  
"He's a very persuasive man."

"Yes, he is, Ma'am," Tag replied, holding Leia's eyes unabashed. "It's because he believes absolutely in what he's saying. And he's saying that between you, you and he can broker peace…and I believe him, absolutely. And forgive me, Ma'am, but I think you do too."

The redhead—the redhead Leia had sent the message to—straightened, her arms still folded across her chest, all business. "Well this is fascinating, it really is. Meanwhile the trail's going cold." She turned hard eyes on Leia. "What you said on Kwenn Station—were you serious?"

Leia frowned, and Jade lifted her chin. "You said you wanted to change all this—that you wanted to make it work. Well the only man who can do that is presently being held by one of your Generals…so I'm asking you again—do you really want to see this end?"

Leia remained silent, and Jade spoke again. "Luke trusted you—he always trusted you. Right from the very beginning, despite everything, he picked you out. He doesn't trust a lot of people, let me tell you."

"He never trusted me."

"He trusted you enough to step onboard the _Wasp_, even though he knew it was a trap."

Leia felt a twist of guilt lurch in her stomach. "We have people looking for the _Wasp _now. I have nine units at its last known location."

"Nine units?" Jade said dryly. "You might like to know that the Empire has one hundred sixty-five Star Destroyers, ninety-seven Interdictors, one hundred thirty-five frigates, three hundred corvettes…"

The slight man leaned in, voice no more than a whisper. "I think she gets it, Mara."

Jade raised her eyebrows, gaze remaining on Leia. "No, she doesn't. Because they won't do any good—Luke will still be just as dead. They won't be fast enough. He needs something else—he needs the one thing he was fighting so hard to bring into being. He needs cooperation...here, now, because we'll respond faster; this mix. What we believe in, which side of the divide we stand right at this moment, is immaterial. Luke was right, when it comes down to the wire, it shouldn't matter. Political views, personal standpoints…they divide us because a very clever and manipulative old man told us they should, and we were all gullible enough to listen and think it was important. But now something _genuinely _important has happened and compared to that…I don't care. I don't give a damn about all that politics—it's a difference of _opinion_, not a difference of intent. All I know is that right now, between the people in this ship, we've got the best chance of making this work. We have those closest to the problem, and therefore the facts, on both sides of the divide. We have everyone he needs right here... So I'll ask again, were you ever serious, in all those talks with Luke? Because if you were, you need to come with me right now."

The slender man coughed and straightened, clearly feeling he should be the mediator in this. "You should probably know that this is the nearest I've ever heard Mara come to saying please in my entire life."

Leia stared at Jade, unabashed. "You should know, this is the nearest I've come to listening to an Imperial in mine."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Jade said. "Because I'm on a schedule and we're wasting time."

Leia tilted her head. "What makes you think I'll let you leave?"

Jade didn't blink. "What makes you think you can stop me?"

Hallin took a tentative step forward. "Maybe we should all…"

"Quiet!" Both women said it at once, then glanced to each other.

Jade shrugged. "He talks a lot. Fortunately, it's generally useful stuff…eventually."

Leia licked dry lips. "If we do this, it's on my terms." Was she even _considering _this?

Jade shook her head. "If we do this, there are no terms. We do it. For Luke. We get him out, then we go our separate ways."

"I won't lead _Home One_ into a dangerous situation, and I can't risk the fleet in close quarters with Star Destroyers."

"I'm not asking the fleet, I'm asking you. The fleet'll only slow us down."

The medic leaned in, speaking quietly. "Mara, we may need that backup…"

"There's a fleet looking for him already, Nathan—bigger and better equipped than anything the Rebels can muster. This isn't about numbers."

Leia raised her chin. "I thought you said he gave good advice."

"I said _eventually_," Jade maintained—but she paused. "You can keep your fleet updated—but you should know I've no intention of taking Luke out of one prison just to hand him over into another. And we travel alone; I'm not waiting for any fleet to synchronize before we make every move."

"Fine."

The redhead nodded. "Fine."

The silence reigned for tense seconds before Nathan Hallin stepped forward again. "Are we supposed to…shake on it?"

Jade turned to look at him for long-suffering seconds before turning back to Leia. "So, I understand your two-faced ratgash just upped and resigned." She turned to Tag. "How many days ago did you last peg the _Wasp_?"

"We're running a trace now, on a HoloNet link he used. But if he's just resigned he'll probably have jumped already and knowing Madine, chances are that he was bouncing his signal off a good half-dozen boosters and routers anyway." Tag turned to Leia. "I'll get the co-ordinates sent to you—they may confirm our earlier suspicions—but that's still an awful big area to start dredging for one freighter."

"We have a make and an ID broadcast code for the _Wasp_, taken at Kwenn, which is obviously fake," Jade added. "Presumably you have more?"

"I'll transmit everything we have," Tag said. "We don't have much on the freighter—it was one of the General's little finds—but I've been reading through Madine's recent technical personnel and requisitions and based on those, aside from the shields it hadn't been modified too much. I also have a list of all of Madine's fake ID broadcast codes."

Jade nodded, all business. "We also need a new ship."

Leia frowned. "What's wrong with this one?"

"This one is hot," Jade said casually. "The Imperial Military probably have our ID code by now."

"And why would that be a problem?"

"It's not…if we have another ship."

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"You got another ship. And believe me, it's way, _way _better than this one." Everyone turned at the new voice as footsteps came up the ramp. Han Solo squared his shoulders, glancing once to the redhead before he turned to Leia. "Chewie's just gone to warm the _Falcon _up. We should get movin'; time's wasting."

Jade hoisted a bulky holdall onto her shoulder, resettling her holstered blaster as she nodded in approval, every inch the professional soldier. "A man after my own heart."

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	42. Chapter 42

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**CHAPTER FORTY TWO**

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Madine walked into the observation room where the medic, Kalter, was slouched back on a chair, eyes on the virtual screen, watching Skywalker as he slept.

Kalter rose as Madine nodded, glancing to the screen. "Time to get him up. How long's he slept?"

"Densun says they hauled him up three times last night, sir; he did about an hour sitting at the table each time, so…maybe two hours sleep, max. That makes it nine straight days of two hours or less. Plus he got woken up three more times 'cos the lens was fritzing out again."

Madine nodded, looking briefly to the corner and the innocuous small plasteel box which housed the slave chip's range monitor—his little insurance policy. The single status light flashed green, the small receiver holding the power of life and death with a single coded pulse to the chip-charge implanted at the base of Skywalker's skull. If it no longer detected its presence within a set radius—or if Madine chose to enter the activation code—it would fire the chip-charge.

Kalter's attention was on his open medi-box, a variety of ampoules within. "I mixed up a new combination last night, changed the ratio of co-fralodiost to tricliptidine. It seemed to work pretty well in the last session—eventually."

Madine let out a grunt. "All it seemed to do to me was make him talk more."

"That's what we need."

"No, we need information. Time's wasting and I'm not interested in listening to his life story."

Kalter shrugged. "That's how this works. The more he talks, the more comfortable he gets speaking and the less he's censuring what he's saying."

"It's too slow. I need that code."

"It goes as fast as it goes, sir. You heard the recording, he's used to the drugs. Too used to them."

"Then give him higher doses."

"We're past safe levels already, and administering them way too often, even by Imperial standards. Go too far and he could have a psychotic episode that'll take weeks to pull him back from—longer maybe."

"Fine," Madine bit out, "then I'll ask the questions. He answers me."

The medic shook his head. "You get his guard up and that's actually when he starts falling back on method avoidances like the countdowns. Look at what he's actually saying and he doesn't give you any more answers than me. In fact given the last session when the co-fralodiost cut in, I'd question whether we're even asking the right things…"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that for a start, I don't think he was a spy."

"I told you not to pursue that line of questions," Madine rumbled.

"I didn't, sir. You heard the recording, he volunteered it."

"So you wasted time listening to him? We have just five days left before he's dead—I need those codes."

"I think it's very relevant. If he wasn't a spy…"

"It doesn't _matter _who he was. What matters is who he is now, and the information he holds because of that. Information that I need." Madine stepped forward to glance to the medi-box as he closed it down. "You're giving him twelve-milliliter doses, right?"

Kalter glanced down, lips pursing, his reticence obvious. Madine let out a low sigh; Skywalker was a piece of work, he really was, to start one of Madine's own troops thinking. He glanced back to make sure the door behind him was closed, then back to Kalter.

"Let me tell you something about the man in that cell, Lieutenant; he's one of the best agents I ever saw, a consummate soldier trained by Palpatine himself, and he'll do anything and twist anything to get what he needs. He'll find _any _weakness—anything at all—and use it. I know that without a shadow of a doubt because he did it with me for three years—and the rest of the Council."

Kalter looked up, and Madine nodded, confirming the whispers which had never quite gone away in the Alliance; that Skywalker had walked among them once. "They're all true, the rumors. He infiltrated the Alliance as a spy, and he did it to Command level. For three years he walked among us like he belonged and no one—not one person—suspected anything. You want to know how good he was? _I_ promoted him to Special Ops status, _I_ was one of the Council members who approved the recommissioning of the Rogues as a specialist unit on his request, gaining him access to all kinds of information. I even put him forward as one of Mon Mothma's bodyguards. I thought he'd be a General in five years; on the Council in seven. No one _once _questioned him, right up until he returned to Palpatine. Hell, there's still a few pilots out there from Rogue Group who don't believe it to this day. That's how good he is. He's doing exactly the same thing to you right now…and you're letting him."

Kalter's jaw tensed as he looked away and nodded—but it wasn't enough, Madine knew. He sighed, lifting the box. "Twenty milliliters, right?"

The medic nodded, understanding that Madine had made his decision, and wouldn't take him into the cell again. "Start him on ten, then ramp it gradually to a total of twenty. No more than that and no closer than eight hours between doses—seriously. That's already pushing it. Watch his breathing—and let him talk."

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By the time Madine walked in with the medi-box, Skywalker was already tethered to the table, hunched forward, at the edge of his endurance physically if not yet mentally. Madine clamped his jaw as he slammed the box down hard on the table, annoyed that he'd lost Kalter to Skywalker's tricks; lost the inventive edge that the drug-specialist could provide.

Maybe it was time for a different kind of approach anyway.

He turned and walked to the surveillance lens to unplug it before looking to the soldiers who always stood guard in the cell when interrogations were taking place. "Outside."

Skywalker glanced about, wary eyes on the door as it cycled closed, the black eyes and bruises from his beating when they'd filmed the images two days ago still darkening, cuts still scabbing, though the swelling that had almost closed one eye had gone down. He kept his head down now, his breathing already so labored that it moved his whole frame with every breath.

Madine sat, opening the case and taking out the loaded syringe to place it on the table before him, seeing Skywalker tense at the corner of his vision. He took his time to put the case to the floor and sat back slowly, wrapping his fists one in the other before him as Skywalker watching him guardedly; _good_.

"Ready to start?" he asked levelly.

"You forgot your other half."

There was the hint of a slur to his voice and he blinked slowly; tiredness or residual drugs, Madine didn't know which.

"Kalter won't be back again—no more good guy, bad guy. Just me now."

No movement; no reaction. Madine leaned in and lifted the syringe, turning it about in his hands. "You should know that things have changed while you've been in here, Skywalker. Big-time—and not in your favor. It's time for a new game...I know you're so fond of them. Only you might not like this one so much, because it's my game. No Alliance involved, not any more."

Skywalker straightened slightly in the chair but his stony expression didn't change, leaving Madine to wonder if he'd been expecting this all along.

"That means no rules but my rules, and I'm guessing you can figure out just how few and far between they are. I want some real answers, and I'm not prepared to wait any longer, you understand what I'm saying?"

"I understand exactly what you're saying." Skywalker nodded his head slowly. "It's all starting to fall apart for you, isn't it? I'm betting the Alliance couldn't drop you quick enough when they realized what you were going to do."

Madine sat back, squaring his jaw against the provocation. "I left them."

Skywalker glanced down, letting out a brief laugh. "So what, the Alliance is out of the picture and you're starting your own little faction, claiming this victory in its name?"

"I may just do that. Quite an opening statement, don't you think—the execution of the Emperor?"

Skywalker nodded slowly. "Too much of one for the Rebel Alliance."

"Because the Alliance is no longer the Rebellion. It's losing its way, becoming nothing more than a pale shadow of the Empire it was formed to fight against."

"The Alliance isn't becoming like the Empire, the Empire's coming closer to the ideals of the Alliance. We're relaxing laws, we're changing—it just takes time."

"And you just happen to remain in power while all that time is being taken? No, that's not going to happen any more; I'll take you down, then I'll rip your travesty of a regime apart."

"That's just barbed words—words are easy. What would you actually _do_? How would you—"

"I'll dissemble the Imperial military for a start. Take it apart—blow it apart if I have to."

Skywalker shook his head, but already he was beginning to slump, his voice weakening even as he pushed on. "That's not a policy, it's anarchy. It's a gut reaction. What do you put in its place, how do you maintain law? How do you ensure that the power vacuum you're creating doesn't fire up a dozen local warlords? What about criminal organizations like Black Sun—do you think you have more funds and facilities than them? What will you do when they start bankrolling individual Royal Houses who have a good chance at taking power in the vacuum you've created? That's assuming all those disgruntled Moffs don't simply start forming their own private little armies from those you've just dismissed. How do you police that new democracy when you don't even have enough troops to maintain order? How do you make sure it's not simply a manifestation of the highest bidder or the most influential..."

Madine rose, slamming his hands down, but Skywalker only smiled, head still lolling, looking to Madine through his tangled hair. "Or doesn't that matter? Are you exactly what you seem, Madine—just another anarchist looking for justification. For a way to hurt something that hurt you."

"You think you're so smart, think you're the only one who sees things on a galactic scale, don't you? Well I have news for you; I see things too, and I have plans. Big plans."

"If that was them, I'm not impressed."

"You think your execution is going to force me out of the Alliance and give your sister free reign? You couldn't be further from the truth. See, I've taken a leaf from your book; right now I don't _need _to be there to control them. I can still see what they need to push them forwards, and how to bring that into effect from right here in this cell. They've let themselves become complacent, thanks to your sister. They've let themselves be pushed further and further out into the Rim Systems whilst you put out empty shams of reform and ease the Alliance from everyone's mind—that's what you're doing, I can see that. They'll finish not with a bang, but with a whimper. Except that I'm not going to let you—in fact, I'm gonna use you to do exactly the opposite. Executing you and claiming responsibility on behalf of the Alliance will force everyone's hand. Our new Empress seems so touchingly concerned for your safety," Madine said dryly.

Skywalker actually straightened, voice hardening. "Leave her alone."

Madine couldn't hide the smile from his face at that reaction. "Do I detect _concern_? And here I thought you weren't capable of such things."

Skywalker reined himself back in, but the tension was still there, visible in his sharpening eyes, in his fingers curling about the metal cable that tethered his wrists.

Madine grinned. "If you ask me, she seemed a little too eager to step into your role, but I'm betting that if I execute you, she'll respond, if only because it's expected of her—and I'll take that, because it'll still kick-start the war that your sister's made the Alliance so very reticent to instigate and you know it, don't you?"

"You're wrong. It won't start a war—Leia won't let it."

"I don't think she'll be around. Unlike our vaunted new Empress who's just starting her reign, your sister's nearing the end of hers. See, I need an army to fight that war and take that victory for me—and she has one just ripe for the taking, whenever I'm ready…as well as a means to take it."

Madine had the satisfaction of seeing Skywalker blanch, realization opening dark-rimmed eyes. "You'll tell them who she is."

"That's right. When I'm good and ready, and not before. When I'm the only hope they have of stopping the avalanche. When they're realizing just how bad it can get—how little some slip of a barely grown girl can do to stop the war…then I'm gonna step in there and tell them one hell of a reason why she hasn't. Why she turned them all against me. I'll walk back in there as their savior because I'll have the means to victory. But to do that, I need those codes; I need the Doomsday Codes and I know damn well you have them."

Skywalker shook his head wearily. "They don't exist."

"Please, you've already said they do." He glanced to the vo-corder on the table. "You want me to pull the conversation up? One code, seven groups of numbers, that's what you said."

"Not that code. It never existed. It was only ever a rumor to keep the fleet Captains in line, another little game by Palpatine." Skywalker lifted his head to look Madine in the eye. "It never existed."

"I was a General, Skywalker—I was a General in Palpatine's army. I know the codes he had, the hard-wired overrides in every capital ship and every major installation. Palpatine was a paranoid man, he didn't like to think that anything was beyond his control, or his retribution. One code, seven groups of numbers."

"Doesn't exist."

Madine's eyes went to the syringe as he lifted it and began to turn it in his fingers. "Kalter told me the safe limits of this stuff. Told me what would happen if I went over them… How likely do you think it is that I'm gonna hold to them in this new game?"

Skywalker moved slightly but didn't speak as Madine continued to finger the syringe. "I should clarify that I don't care what condition you're in when I put you up in front of that firing squad. I couldn't give a damn. If you can't stand any more I'll have you dragged in there and shoot you in a heap on the floor—I'll shake you awake just so you can see that it's me holding the gun.

"Myself, I'd want the last view the galaxy ever saw of me to be standing straight and looking the men who held the blasters in the eye, rather than tied down and drugged up and covered in cuts and bruises for the sake of holding out just one or two more days." Madine paused to lift his eyes to Skywalker, who sat in a slump, his eyes on the syringe. "That's the choice you're looking at now—do you die by being stood up against a wall and shot or do you die like this, off your head and just waiting for the time that your heart gives out from another overdose. It's your choice. You're dead either way, and either way, you're sharing your last minutes with the rest of the galaxy. How many of them'll clap, do you suppose? How many will cheer? More importantly, how many will stand, outraged, and demand the reprisals that will kick-start my war and stop those spineless, pathetic people out there being able to hover safely on the sidelines and _not get involved_." Madine grinned, eyes alight as Skywalker finally met his gaze. "You and me, we're gonna start a war, Skywalker. What is it they say...a wind to shake the stars."

"Don't do it—don't start a war thinking you can control it… You want to see change, we can achieve the same things without–"

"Huttslime. I'm sick of hearing your rousing little speeches, Skywalker; they won't even scratch the surface anymore and they sure as hell won't save your life." Madine grinned as Skywalker stopped dead at the use of his name, the first time Madine had said it out loud. "Oh yes, I know who you really are. I got to wondering when I first started asking Solo about your cell onboard the _Executor_. Worked it out first time I saw those plans—why bother to go to all that trouble and complexity for a cell that worked like this one, otherwise? Why not fake it, if you were already an Imperial agent. But let me tell you a hard truth: I don't give a damn. I don't care who you were, I only care what you're worth to me now. You're the man whose death can spark a war. You're the man who knows the one thing that stands between me and returning to the Alliance in triumph as the General who can cripple the whole Imperial fleet in one fell swoop, and win that war."

"The _fleet?"_

"Imagine… I know the Doomsday Code can single out individual vessels by their call signs, but why bother? Why bother at all? If you have a weapon, you shouldn't be afraid to use it."

"The fleet holds the peace on thousands of worlds. It polices civilian populations, it keeps the criminal…"

"D'you think I'm afraid of a little anarchy? It's all grist to the mill—keeps your government occupied whilst we move; ties them down in details, limits their responses."

"You bring down the whole fleet and it removes _any _law. You'll never control it, you'd throw the whole galaxy into chaos, it'll spread like wildfire. It would be years of fighting—decades even. This needs to stop, not escalate—our children deserve the chance to grow up in a galaxy that isn't at war. I can give you peace by–"

"Your peace, on your terms. I'm not interested."

Skywalker shook his head. "Always the soldier—all you know how to do is fight."

"And you're a Sith—all you know how to do is lie."

"Listen to me, Madine–"

"I think enough people have listened to you, Skywalker. I think it's time to stop that—dead. You can't talk your way out of this one—you can't argue your way out or order your way out, like you have some divine right. There's no throne here. I don't give a damn who you were. It changes not one thing, because you _still _killed Mon."

"Mothma came after me…"

"That's right, she did—and I'll finish the job she started."

"She also wanted peace—do you really think she'd…"

"Don't waste your breath. You have so little of it left now." Madine smiled tightly. "Can't you just feel those seconds ticking away? Do you think this is what Mon felt in her last hours? Do you think you'll feel the same as she did when I stand you in front of a firing squad, have the same final thoughts whipping around in your head—do you think you'll have her strength when you face them, her courage?"

Skywalker glanced down, face falling to regret as his voice softened. "She was a brave woman..."

"Don't!" Madine slammed his fist down on the table, furious. "Don't you dare talk about her! Don't even utter her name! You killed her, you son of a Sith, you killed her! You're not fit to speak her name."

Skywalker remained still, flinching just once as Madine's hands came down on the desk, but holding his eye without shying back. "You killed her, Madine, just as much as I did...because you talked her into signing that warrant to make the assassination attempt, didn't you? _You _made her put her name to it. What did you expect me to do? _You _killed her just as much as…"

Madine lurched up to grab Skywalker by the loose flightsuit he wore, hauling him upright, his hands coming instinctively up in defense only to be jolted to a halt as Madine drew his arm back, hand curling into a fist.  
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Han slowed in his walk across the main hold of the _Falcon_, still stretching muscles wound tight half from sitting too long in the cockpit and half from worry.

They'd set out almost nine hours ago, heading for the narrow crossing-point close to the join of the Perlemian and the Hydian Way, on his and Massa's hunch that it would be somewhere in that closely massed sector of stars that Madine would try to slip the Imperial blockades. It was, Han had to admit, about as tenuous a link as he'd ever followed, and he had no idea what they'd do when they got there in two days' time. He was hoping that Tag Massa, who'd stayed behind to maintain the pretense that Leia was still onboard _Home One_, would have uncovered something to narrow the search by the time they got there.

With the uproar in the Council from Madine's resignation, Tag was now closely monitoring every single piece of outbound data from _Home One _looking for _anything _out of place; that single message sent by one of Madine's lackeys on the state of play, which would blow the _Wasp's _co-ordinates. Still, he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that time was ticking down—they were now on day ten of that fourteen-day deadline Madine had so confidently announced in the short holo-message and the fact was, even with their combined knowledge, the odd mix onboard the _Falcon _right now had painfully little to go on.

Now, as he headed aft to get something to eat whilst Chewie took the helm, Han paused in the main hold to stare at its one remaining occupant; Jade was sitting at the dejarik board, her attention centered on reassembling the impressive-looking rifle she'd clearly taken in pieces from her open holdall.

"Nice piece," Han said conversationally. "Tailor-made?"

She glanced up, cagey as ever. "Maybe."

"Stealth sniper," he said knowingly, pleased at the surprise in her eyes, though he kept his voice casual. "I've seen a few, with mercenaries."

"Not like this one," Jade said simply, working on the pieces with a practiced hand; Han bet she could've continued assembling that thing in the dark.

"Looks like it's had some use," he observed as he picked up the power coupling.

Jade reached out to take it off him and return it to the exact same spot on the table. "Not so much recently. But I think I remember where everything goes."

Han leaned loosely against the edge of the holo-table, studying the redhead. She had that same tough, no-nonsense sense about her that he remembered from six years ago in Luke's quarters in the Palace, but there was a brittleness to it now; an anxious vulnerability.

"So where do you fit into all this?" he asked at last. "And don't say you're his bodyguard, 'cos I wasn't born yesterday."

Jade arched an eyebrow. "How about it's none of your business."

"Hey, you're on my ship and we're going after my buddy. I think I got a right."

Jade paused in her work to look up. "Okay, I have a question for you…why are you helping Luke—returning a favor?" Han frowned, and she raised her eyebrows. "From when Luke broke you out of the Palace. Force knows, you both spent weeks planning it—or did you think I didn't know?"

"You didn't seem too eager to stop us at the time."

"I didn't think whatever the hell you were planning would work," Jade said pointedly. "Luke had absolutely no way to get out of his quarters and even if he did, as long as he had to waste time getting down to you in the main monolith, I thought I had all the time in the galaxy to stop him. I didn't expect him to pull that splitting up stunt."

"Neither did I," Han said with feeling.

"You didn't know?"

Han frowned, halfway between injured and insulted. "You think I'd've just _left _him there? He told me he was already out of the Palace, in the _Falcon_."

Watching Jade's eyes roll, Han realized it was only now that she understood that he hadn't _let _Luke risk his own life just to get Han out; he'd been as in the dark as everyone else. He watched a slow smile come to her lips as she nodded. "Figures."

Han grinned lopsidedly. "Drives you insane sometimes, doesn't he?"

Jade shook her head wryly—and with a smile on her lips, she looked pretty good, Han had to admit.

"You have no idea," she said dryly.

"You know, the whole time I knew him, I swear sometimes he just seemed to go from situation to situation. He got it down to a fine art."

Jade smiled again…then her expression turned pensive. "He's not the man you left there—you know that, don't you?"

Han shrugged. "He is to me. Just better dressed."

"You're wrong. He's still Luke but…"

"With an edge," Han said simply. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it.

"It's more than that. Do you…know anything about the Force?"

"I know it's got a lot to answer for."

"Luke's…the Force is split into two, Light and Darkness. In every single teaching I've ever read, both Jedi and Sith, it's always written that you are one or the other—you use one or the other side of the Force _exclusively_. I can't…I can't even tell you what Luke is—I don't think he could either."

"Same as everyone," Han shrugged. "A little bit of both."

"No, the Force doesn't work like that, it never has. Either you hold to the light or you get pulled down by the Darkness. There are no shades of gray, not in this."

"There must be a point at which light meets darkness?" Han asked. "That's where he is."

Jade was silent for long seconds, eyes falling, clearly lost in thought. When she spoke it was quietly; more hesitant than Han had ever seen her. "You can't stand there…you can't span that divide. You haven't seen him when the Darkness takes him. If he's pushed too far, when that balance fails…he snaps spectacularly."

Han sighed, uneasy, pushing her worry aside with a joke. "Yeah, you should see me working on the _Falcon _some days."

He paused as Chewie's holler came down the corridor from the cockpit, walking to the console in the main hold to activate the comm. "Hm."

Jade was instantly attentive. "What?"

"Someone's leavin' messages for me all over the place, asking for contact."

She straightened a little, voice tightening. "Who?"

It had already come out just exactly why Jade and Hallin had needed to lose their scout fighter when they'd arrived at the Alliance baseship. One more reason to avoid the Imperials, as if they needed one—and here, Han had been pretty much hoping that Jade's rank would buy them safe passage around that Imperial interdiction zone when they were looking for Madine. Jade seemed pretty confident she could count on a good portion of the military if she had to; he just didn't want to find out which ones she _couldn't _the hard way.

"Karrde." Han frowned at the short message, no more than a name and a comm code. "Where've I heard that name before?"

Jade was already on her feet and setting forward. "Talon Karrde?"

Han glanced over, surprised. "Doesn't say his first name, but…wait a minute, I remember now, I saw him onboard the _Patriot_, right?"

Jade broke step momentarily. "When were you onboard the _Patriot _at the same time as Karrde?"

"Oh, er….some point—don't remember." Han swiveled his chair quickly back from the console, effectively changing the subject by leaning back to shout down the loop corridor, "Leia! Get up here."  
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They all sat crushed into the cockpit of the _Falcon _as the holo-transmitter there flickered into life on the channel they'd been given in the message…and Talon Karrde's face came into view. Han frowned, remembering the burly Corellian smuggler, his long, grey-tinged hair and thick moustache instantly recognizable.

"Solo," he greeted somberly—and already, Han could see those sharp eyes flicking about the holo that would be before him right now, obviously taking in the unlikely mix of Imperials and Rebels he was speaking to. Still, he held a neutral tone as he continued, far from fazed. "We met once, through a mutual friend, I believe?"

"That's right."

"I've been trying to track you down for several days now."

"I've been busy," Han said simply.

"So I see," Karrde replied, moving quickly on to business. "I believe we may be _busy _looking for the same person?"

"Very likely," Han allowed. "Care to tell me what you know?"

That wide moustache was curved by a smooth grin. "I was thinking more of a two-way exchange."

Han settled back, face wary, though in truth he wasn't too worried; Luke trusted this guy, and if Karrde had bothered to contact them, chances were he was reliable. Plus, they could use all the help they could get right now. "Well unless you know a hell of a lot, it'll be a short exchange. I could spend an hour tellin' you what we don't know, but I can fill you in on what we do know in about two minutes."

"I think I have two minutes to spare." Karrde's eyes flicked again across those he could see in the _Falcon's _cockpit, coming to rest on Leia. "I would assume you have access to more…across the board knowledge, given where the images on the HoloNet claim to have come from."

"We don't have him," Han said categorically. "The Alliance doesn't have him. We don't know if or how they're moving him around, and we don't know where they're holding him, or how. All we know is, the threat's genuine."

Karrde's face hardened momentarily. "Yes…I think that pretty much sums up our side of the fence too. We are, however, working on it."

"So…a little less than two minutes then," Han said. "Unless you got something else?"

Karrde stared for a few seconds longer, clearly considering his options…then sighed, leaning forward slightly. "I think I can pretty much tell you how they're holding him," he allowed. "Someone was in the market for a copy of the plans used to construct a specific cell not too long ago. A domed, double-walled cell built onboard the _Executor _with a very unusual spec…a cell designed to hold a Sith."

Han felt Leia jolt in surprise where she leaned against him…and in the far chair, Jade turned quickly, studying her a fraction too long with narrowed eyes as she leaned forward to speak. "That's the cell! That's the cell I saw in the _Wasp's _hold. It's a half-dome, like being inside a half-sphere. All the walls are curved and there's a double-skin with an inner and outer doors, connected by a short corridor."

Karrde paused. "Yes, it's to facilitate a vacuum between those inner and outer walls."

Jade nodded. "It was built so that if a Force-sensitive tried to blow out the interior wall, he'd open the cell to vacuum—explosive decompression—and it would knock him cold. How do you know details about it?" The last she aimed at Karrde.

"I was given a set of those plans by the Emperor to try to draw out who your mole was sending information to. We entered negotiations, then he pulled out before I met him—I assume he got a set elsewhere. I happened to…leaf through them yesterday, though, and I noticed that they require TSC, which should be easy to trace, since no one uses it any more."

"TSC…" Jade twisted round to Leia as a stray memory fired. "The alloy—the alloy stolen by your Rebellion in the Fondor raid about five months ago!"

Leia nodded. "That was…his operation from beginning to end. It was approved on the strength of it being a raid on the military shipyard. We didn't know that he was using it to steal something. What is it?"

"A super-strength alloy used in military bunkers," Jade supplied. "We didn't understand why it had been taken at Fondor because the product itself had been upgraded and replaced by a new product."

On the comlink, Karrde nodded slowly, putting the pieces together. "But the original plans for that cell were around eight years old and would have specified it, so your…unnamed man followed them to the letter. Better safe than sorry when you're trying to cage a Sith, I would imagine."

"Madine," Han volunteered, knowing the way things went in this arena; that some return of trust was needed here after Karrde had taken the time to contact them, and was himself volunteering information without reserve.

Jade turned to glare at him, but he ignored her.

"So it _is _Crix Madine," Karrde said with interest, everything clearly falling into place for him. "The viral I saw claimed this was on behalf of the Rebel Alliance." His eyes held meaningfully on Leia.

"It's not," Leia said simply.

"But he's one of your people?"

"Not any more. We're trying to get that fact out there now."

"I see…" Karrde said slowly. Still tying all the loose ends together, Han figured. "So it's true that your Rebellion has just publicly disavowed him—presumably because of this?"

"The Alliance didn't know what he was planning, and he didn't return to us when he'd done it," Leia said emphatically. "This was Madine's own actions, we had no part in it, and we can't and won't condone it now."

"Madine was always a loose cannon," Han growled. "We couldn't get rid of him soon enough, if you ask me."

"Really? I would have said that you got rid of him a few days too early. Why didn't the Rebellion simply nod politely and keep him happy until they could get a commando team together and take the Emperor from him?"

Han shook his head. "He's kept Luke well away from the Alliance. Has him on a different ship—a CEC Class Six bulk freighter that was running under the ID of the _Wasp _when he did the job, though I doubt it is any more. He went rogue a few days back; took his prisoner with him."

Karrde nodded. "I have the freighter's ID, though I didn't know whose show it was. We're…pursuing a few enquiries of our own to try to track it down."

Jade straightened, frowning. "How do you have the ID?"

Karrde shrugged casually. "It's been relayed from one end of the galaxy to the other for the last week or so."

"On secure Imperial channels."

"Whatever," Karrde dismissed.

Han leaned in, looking to break up the deadlock. "You get anything?"

"No, not yet, but hopefully I will shortly. As I said, I spoke to the man who wanted to buy those cell plans—twice in fact—and both times, it was through the Vendaxa Relay Station on the Rimma Trade Route. If he's still hacked into that station and using it to relay bounced messages, we'll try to backtrack the comm signals from there."

"A track like that would take days to cut in and slice," Mara said. "We don't have that long."

"My slicer tracked the message back to that relay when the original deal was being discussed," Karrde said. "We placed a backdoor access into the relay program then. When we're within sublight comm range we can access it."

"How far away are you?"

"A few hours. We just made a brief drop out of lightspeed so I thought I'd make another attempt to contact you."

"We have five days," Han said gravely.

Karrde blinked a few times. "Yes, I saw the holo."

"We're going through our own records, but Madine hasn't used the Alliance's official channels to get anything in this; he's too shrewd. Given time, we might pick something up but…"

"Ghent's fast," Karrde said simply, his brusqueness and confidence reassuring. "Plus he has standing codes to slice that relay station. Madine will presumably have used a modulator though—he always was a slippery fish. A clean, digitized voice sample would speed it up and give us greater accuracy."

"I can get one sent to you from Alliance Intel," Leia said immediately.

"Good. It'll be a day or so, but I think a list of every comm Madine made from that relay station may well be an enlightening piece of information."

Mara leaned in. "If you give us the frequencies Madine's using, I can pass that on to our Intel people too."

"Really?" Karrde asked levelly. "From what I've heard, you might not necessarily be listened to."

Jade straightened, her tone a dangerous mix of offense at his insinuation and annoyance that he knew her status in the first place. "Do you have access to classified codes?"

Karrde remained impressively unfazed, given the tone of Jade's voice. "I would say the codes we should be discussing right now are the ones that Crix Madine is using."

Han spoke up, more interested in what other information Karrde had than where or how he got it. "We think he might be somewhere in the Perlemian Crush," he said, of the cluster of close systems. "You got any guesses yet?"

Karrde frowned. "The Crush is barely clear of the present Imperial interdiction zone—I would imagine he'd be further out."

"He has a fault on his hyperdrive, we think. He's limited to short jumps. We know his first was to Agamar, then Sinsang. Trouble is, going after him is putting _us _at the edge of the Imperial interdiction zone too."

"Yes…" Karrde seemed to hesitate a moment, obviously turning something over. "I think I can help you with that. I have a high-level recognition code given me by the Emperor. If you broadcast it, you'll have unhindered passage anywhere in Imperial space."

"You're kidding me!"

"I've used it several times to pass in clear sight through military blockades and interdicted planets, and have never once been challenged." He glanced to Jade. "Presuming it's still active."

She shrugged. "I didn't know you had it, so I'm pretty damn sure Kiria D'Arca won't."

Han kept his eyes on the holo, wondering if anybody else had missed the inference that came with Jade's casual words; certainly not Karrde, whose shrewd eyes remained on her just a moment too long before he continued.

"I'll have Aves patch it through to you on a coded channel. Try not to do anything too imprudent when you're using it; I'd rather like to utilize it again myself." Karrde glanced away and nodded to someone out of pickup range. "We're ready to move on. I'll contact you on this frequency as soon as we have anything."

"Uh…" Solo paused, "thanks, Karrde."

"No problem. Oh…" the mercenary loosed the slightest of sardonic smiles, eyes flicking to Jade, "I will, of course, be billing the Empire for my time."

"So, useful to get that Imp clearance code, huh?" At the rear of the trail of tired people heading back through the main hold to their bunkrooms, even though they all knew damn well that none of them would sleep tonight, Han paused to speak to Jade.

"Provided it works," she allowed. "I'll run it by a friend in Intel before we use it—make sure it's still operative, and doesn't have a tracer on it."

"Useful friend."

"Luke's, not mine." She'd stopped to pick up her sniper rifle from the dejarik table, but she turned to him now, expression coolly calculating as she looked him up and down. "Apparently he has them all over the place."

Han grinned at the underhand compliment. "Nice to know I'm appreciated."

"I wouldn't go that far."

She hefted the long-barreled sniper-rifle onto her shoulder before she too turned to leave, and Han nodded his head at it. "Got it assembled then?"

"Pretty much." She hesitated, then surprised Han by holding it out. He took it, impressed by its balanced weight as he lifted it to stare down the sight.

"What's the prism?"

"It has a distance beam for focus, invisible to the naked eye. The prism sight lets me set the focus of the actual laser bolt. With a heat or motion detector on the sight, I can set it to pass unfocussed through walls without any visible damage, focused on a target within a room."

"No tracer then?" Han asked, of the visible tracer beam which enabled the firer to see where a standard blaster fired.

"Well that'd just spoil the effect, wouldn't it?" Jade said grimly, taking the range rifle back and re-shouldering it.

"I'm figuring you got a specific target for that thing?"

She lifted uncompromising green eyes to him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Han affected a half-shrug. "I got no love of Madine. Never did understand what the hell was going on inside his head."

"Well then you'll be happy to know that this may be your chance to find out," Jade said tightly as she turned to leave, "because the first chance I get, I'm spreading its contents out on the wall behind him."

Han watched her go, grinning; yeah, he could see why the kid liked her.  
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Karrde rubbed thoughtfully at his graying moustache as he walked down the _Wild Karrde's_ main corridor, lost in thought. For a self-confessed information-junkie, that had been a very interesting conversation.

He considered the unlikely group he'd just spoken to, freshly amused as one more of the Emperor's many secrets came to light, in the choice of those he clearly trusted. The Rebel Alliance's leader, no less…if he'd have been told it by someone else he would have laughed in their faces. Leia Organa seemed the immensely capable, no-nonsense type that had always fascinated him. She also seemed…unreasonably anxious, given whom she was trying to track down.

Karrde narrowed his eyes, considering that other little nugget this talk had brought to light; because everyone in that discussion clearly believed that the Emperor's given name was Luke. Karrde might still have doubted, but considering the people who'd been sitting around Solo when he said it, none of whom seemed particularly eager to correct him, he was inclined to believe.

And _Luke_, it seemed, was being held by Crix Madine, in a Class Six freighter, in a cell designed specifically to hold a Sith…which was strange, because when Karrde had spoken to him about that very possibility, the Emperor had seemed quietly confident that the cell couldn't hold him.

In that same talk he'd all but admitted that the original cell built by Palpatine had also been built specifically to hold him…which beggared the question: why would Palpatine feel the need to restrain his own Heir, the man whom he'd given the rank of Commander of the Fleet?

True, the Heir was sharp and he was calculating and, if the rumors were to be believed, when he needed to be, he was ruthlessly dangerous…but to Palpatine?

Ambition, of course, was a serious incentive, and with anyone else Karrde might have shrugged and nodded knowingly, but the Heir? No; he'd had no great desire to claim Palpatine's title—every single action he'd ever taken, before or since, underlined that fact.

Karrde knew all the theories, of course, but that was all they were—theories. One of the most enigmatic and powerful men in the Empire had appeared out of the blue aged twenty-one, with no history, no past, no explanation. No name. The scant facts that came to light in the following years were few and far between, but Karrde was a collector of information, and he'd come to have a vested interest.

The fragments of documents which passed hands for exorbitant sums said that the Emperor's Heir had been an Imperial Intel Commander in Palpatine's elite forces—an infiltration specialist who had been the Emperor's spy in the Rebel Alliance—and indeed, the occasional rumor that flared and faded from those who claimed they'd known him there bore it out. Karrde had also read the files Black Sun had on _The Wolf_…read nearly the same from Bothan Intel: undercover mole, special tactics, Carida-trained. Everything knitted. Not perfectly, but just enough conflicts and omissions to make a career as one of Palpatine's infamous Emperor's Hands seem legit.

The old Emperor's spy; his wolf, his protégé…or maybe not. Maybe Palpatine wasn't nearly as confident of his Wolf as he seemed, if he'd built that cell.

Karrde ran back through what little the reticent new Emperor had said about the cell when he'd spoken of its existence… Reinforced, double-skinned cell, originally built onboard the Executor a little over seven years ago, designed to hold a Jedi…only there were no more Jedi. Maybe if Madine had…

Karrde slowed, examining that last thought—because that was what the Emperor had said:_ a cell to hold a Jedi._

At the time, given the Heir's obvious insinuation that the cell had been made to contain himself, Karrde had made the obvious connection: _for Jedi, read Sith_. He remembered thinking it so clearly—that it must have been the ever-paranoid Palpatine making sure he could control his budding protégé. Had assumed exactly the same thing when speaking of Madine's replica cell with Solo. Had thought it again just moments ago; _for Jedi, read Sith_. But what if he was jumping to exactly the wrong assumption…

_For Sith, read Jedi…_

What if that cell had actually been built to hold a Jedi?

Only there were no more Jedi. The last one might have been alive seven years ago, when the cell had been built, but he'd fought and died for the Rebellion.

Fought for the Rebellion…as a pilot, wasn't it? The Rebellion's new hope, the hotshot pilot who'd destroyed the first Death Star with a single shot. All those rumors that he was a Jedi; that that was how he'd been able to make the impossible shot. What was his name…began with '_S'_

He'd died on Hoth maybe three years later; Karrde remembered hearing rumors then reports. Remembered shaking his head, thinking that the first Jedi to reappear in over a decade had actually chosen to fight for the Rebellion, and they'd been fool enough to let him go out on front-line missions; gained and lost him within three years. What had his name been, the pilot who…

Karrde came to a halt in the corridor. Skywalker—_Luke _Skywalker!

_A cage to hold a Jedi… For Jedi, read Sith… For Sith, read Jedi…_

Luke Skywalker, the Rebellion's vaunted new Jedi…how soon after they'd pronounced him dead, had the Emperor's mysterious Sith Wolf come into existence? A year—less? Was that why Palpatine had felt the need to cage his Wolf?

And the spectacle at Fondor—the new Emperor himself showing up in the middle of a pitch battle, scoring a resounding blow…then letting the Rebels free.

Karrde walked mechanically forward a few more steps…. Leia Organa's face as she'd spoken today came abruptly to mind, earnest and determined and genuinely worried. The leader of the Rebellion _against _the Emperor—

He slowed… _Rebellion. Rebel Alliance._

He remembered abruptly the Emperor speaking to him about Toprawa…about the Rebels' failure there. Remembered watching, fascinated, aware that it had been the most uncomfortable he'd ever seen the self-possessed Emperor, as he'd admitted to having hidden an error by the Rebels which had cost civilian lives…only he hadn't said Rebels, he'd stumbled over another word: _Alliance_. Not the Rebellion—the Alliance. Only Rebels called themselves that; no one else, just them.

Karrde slowed again, scowling without seeing, mind flashing through the facts as those final fragments came together, making his head buzz at the implications… What if those occasional rumors that there were still pilots in the Rebellion who _swore _they'd known the Emperor were true, not because he'd been a spy there, working for Palpatine, but because…

Luke Skywalker, the Rebel pilot. The hero who, as everyone in the information-selling business knew, had died at Hoth. That was the statement put out by the Rebellion itself; he'd died a hero, at Hoth.

But what if he hadn't died…what if the Emperor who'd admitted to Karrde that Palpatine's cell was built to hold him, _was _Luke Skywalker, the man who shot down the first Death Star. Because if you linked those two events then pretty much everything that the new Emperor had ever done made a twisted kind of sense.

Standing alone in the corridor, aware that he'd come to the kind of dangerous conclusion that could very well get him killed, Karrde's thoughts came slowly, one by one, to that single, burning question: if it was true—all of it—then what was he now? Was that present cell holding a Jedi…or a Sith?  
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It was another two hours before they reached Vendaxa, time which Karrde spent pulling dates from old reports and chasing up anything he could find on that dead Jedi's past...which was incredibly, implausibly little. The Empire, it seemed, had not only robbed the last Jedi of his future, they'd taken his past too. Was any of this true, or was Karrde connecting coincidences? It was easy to do when one had massed piles of data; lots of facts but few truths. There was absolutely no solid information out there to back this theory up, and probably just one person who knew the whole truth. Unfortunately, Crix Madine was doing his level best to make sure that the new Emperor took it to the grave.

Pulling his priorities into line, Karrde stopped outside Ghent's quarters, pressing the door release.

The moment it slid open, the young, blue-haired slicer jolted straight from the four screens he was presently staring at, all of them flicking to runs of code in the same instant. "What—I wasn't doing anything!"

Karrde narrowed his eyes, but let it pass. "I have a job for you—an urgent one, so turn off the fluff channels."

Ghent looked down guiltily, but Karrde continued, undaunted. "We're back at the Vendaxa Relay Station you sliced into a few months ago—you said you left a backdoor, right?"

"Hey, I ain't no amateur!" Ghent seemed slighted that Karrde would even bother to check such a thing.

"Good. I need you to get back in. You need to go over the relay logs from maybe a few weeks before you first sliced it to the present day, and look for anything on the same voiceprint or frequency you cracked before. I need to know if it's been used recently, what was said, where it was coming from, where it was sent to, and if anyone using that frequency has been using another channel."

Ghent scowled. "Would ya like to know what they had for breakfast that day too?"

"Would you like to remain in gainful employment?"

The slicer pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair to glance out of the small viewport at the tall, cylindrical bulk of the Vendaxa Relay Station, spinning slowly on its own axis a few hundred klicks from the _Wild Karrde_. He glanced back to the lists of code running on the four screens before him. "How important is it, cos I'm kinda in the middle of something here?"

Karrde made to lean back against the edge of the desk, but had to push the massed rubbish on it back first. The whole room was a constant tip, expensive state-of-the-art devices almost lost among sweet wrappers and hard-copy mags and abandoned plastique plates. Even the walls were crowded out with vintage swoop-racing one sheets, stuck over every available surface at every conceivable angle.

Ghent put his hand out in warning as Karrde pushed the mess back. "Careful with that stuff, it was expensive!"

"I know, I bought it," Karrde deadpanned, eyes on an old mug balanced on a high-tech alufleck dispersal housing, lights ticking on its fascia. "…is that mug actually _growing_?"

"It's fine." Ghent moved the old cup over a little, resting it on another surface.

Karrde grimaced, trying to look at the walls and keep his mind on the reason he was here. "How important is it? I could tell you it was of galactic relevance, but I'll bring it down to terms you understand, shall I? It's for the man who gives me all the credits to buy this constant string of new and very expensive technical toys so that you can balance old food trays on them. It's for the man who pays my wages, and therefore yours. It's for the man who keeps you in the…manner which you seem to enjoy, for some unknown reason. And it's for a personal friend."

Ghent looked up through his trailing blue bangs at the last. "I didn't think you had any."

"Why, because you're not one of them?"

The slicer seemed genuinely surprised. "Aren't I?"

"Not if you get this wrong, no."

"Is this the guy I do all the ciphers for?"

"Yes, it is."

Ghent grinned, blowing his fringe from his face. "Cool—I like that guy."

Karrde blinked once. "Just…who do you think _that guy_ is, exactly?"

"I dunno—military, I guess," Ghent said with a shrug. "I always seemed to pass my stuff on to him near military bases. I'm not an idiot, you know. I work stuff out."

The last he said with genuine affront, making Karrde stifle a smile. "I'm sure you do. Your awareness of politics and the larger galaxy is…devastating."

Ghent grinned. "Be sweet if he was Intel or something—you know, a spy maybe—something cool."

"Yes, it would," Karrde stated flatly, and Ghent grinned as he spun his chair in a full circle, clearly pleased with himself.

He turned about, calling up new screens. "You want everything, right?"

"Even fragments—plus anything with any voiceprint from that frequency which you can pull from other messages or frequencies. I want to know where every single message came from and went to."

"Be better if I had a clean voiceprint to sample for the search. One that hasn't been encoded or compressed."

"Already on its way," Karrde said. "I'll get it sent down to you."

"Great. I can set up a subroutine to search for the voiceprint easy enough, but tracing outgoings'll take longer."

"They'll probably be coded too."

Ghent shrugged confidently—but then it was with reason, Karrde knew; otherwise he wouldn't have hired him.

"I got a few programs, I can untangle 'em and clean 'em up."

"How much longer to trace their end point?"

"Depends how many messages they sent and how far away that end-point is, and how many relays they used."

"Let me clarify," Karrde drawled pointedly. "You have one day."

"See, I was thinking maybe three or four."

"In four days, my friend will be dead—which I'm sure even you would agree, makes the message-tracing rather academic."

Ghent glanced quickly up. "Four days?"

Karrde held his eye, knowing that despite his not having recognized the beaten man, Ghent would have just put together the viral that was all over the HoloNet, and Karrde's last words. "Four days. Do this on time and you get to write home to your parents and say, 'Dear mom and dad, thought you might like to know that your son, the embarrassing dropout, just saved the galaxy'."

Ghent held Karrde's eye for long seconds…then looked away, grinning. "Ah, they'd never believe me."

"I know," Karrde said, rising to leave. "That's why I'll let you do it. _If _you can actually…" Karrde paused, his eye caught by one of the faded one-sheets on Ghent's wall. "Can I have this?"

He'd already torn it free, the door closing behind him as he left, by the time Ghent spoke out. "Hey—hey!"  
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Luke came round on the bunk, face down, the cell dark. For some reason, that amused him; that they'd bother to move him back to the bunk rather than leave him on the floor where he'd fallen. Then a blinding flood of panic set in as he leaned back, ignoring the spike of pain it caused, hands trailing along beneath the blanket he was lying on top of… still there—the plasteel shards he'd managed to hide when he'd broken the vo-corder were still there; they hadn't moved the blanket which covered them.

He fell back onto the bunk, rolling over onto his back, relief quickly overtaken by the fresh cuts and bruises, head spinning from the sudden movement.

_Up; sit up and walk—don't get too stiff to run._

He sat up in stages, waiting for the room to settle to an even keel between each movement before he finally made himself stand, weak and shaking. His father's words came back to him, words he'd fallen back on so often in a cell so similar to this._ "There are times when to exist, simply to survive, is the greatest victory of all."_

He'd lived by that tenet for so long under Palpatine's grating demands… it had been all that he'd had left. But it never had been enough—not once. He'd wanted more. He'd wanted free will, not just for himself—for the whole galaxy.

And now it was falling apart; all that he'd planned and worked toward, all that he'd driven everything and everyone toward for years. All his work, all his hopes…they were being torn apart by the actions of one man, and it was Luke's own fault for not seeing it. He'd purposely goaded Madine for so long, allowed him to live and to fester, knowing he'd keep attacking the Empire. He was a soldier, not a politician or a dreamer. And in the company of dreamers, that had made him the easy target for Luke, the predictable one; the useful tool to split the Alliance in two to ensure he took only what was worth saving.

But he'd misjudged. Madine had gained the advantage and now Luke stood to lose everything…more than he'd ever thought he could. His eyes lowered as he dropped tiredly back to sit on the edge of the bunk, thoughts going to Mara; to the ultimate loss—and it hurt more than he'd ever anticipated.

Because of Madine, Luke would never see his son. The boy would grow up without ever having a father, as Luke had. Grow up feeling always that some vital part of his life was missing… Because of Madine, Luke's son would grow up in a galaxy torn by conflict and war.

For a moment he wallowed in this regret…

_"There are times when to exist, simply to survive, is the greatest victory of all."_

He remembered the words exactly; the timbre of his father's voice as he'd said them, the unspoken support, the faith in Luke's strength, in his ability to endure. In the absolute dead silence of the cold, empty cell, numb from exhaustion and drugs and grateful for the freezing cold which deadened the pain from cuts and scrapes and bone-deep bruises, Luke found himself seriously considering…

Perhaps this final victory was bought at a very different price. Because for the first time he began to wonder…could his death at Madine's hands buy more than his survival?

Madine was wrong; Leia wouldn't let this escalate—she wouldn't. And neither would Mara, as Empress—and Luke's death would make that title official.

His death could still polarize the Alliance, bringing those willing to talk to the table and rendering those for whom talks had never been an option to the outcast minority. It could buy everything he'd ultimately wanted—he simply wouldn't be around to see it. That didn't mean he didn't have faith in the two women he'd placed in positions of power.

And the truth was that if this continued, Luke knew he'd tell Madine everything eventually. Not just the codes, but about Mara as well. He knew he'd slipped again today and he hadn't even been drugged. His mind was numb enough from exhaustion and frustration and the last trailing tendrils of the previous session working their way out, that he'd slipped anyway.

His death precluded any risk: the codes, his son, everything.

Wasn't that what he'd wanted? He was closer than he'd ever been to realizing it, it simply had a cost involved…didn't everything? Shouldn't he be prepared to give anything to achieve his goal—hadn't he always claimed that, and believed he'd meant it? He was going to die anyway, in a matter of days...he could at least pull something from it—work to his own agenda, not Madine's.

The door cycled open with a last breath of vacuum from the corridor beyond, and Luke glanced up, bracing.

The young soldier Tam walked in hesitantly, a bowl in his hand. He looked once then turned quickly away, seeming reticent to even look at Luke again as he walked along the edge of the line painted on the floor. "Food."

Luke looked away, thoughts turning inwards. "I'm not hungry."

"You should…probably eat."

Luke looked back, and saw the young man glance quickly away. He wondered briefly what he must look like now, after… "How long have I been here?"

Again Tam looked away. "I'm not supposed to…"

"How long till my execution?"

The young man flinched, deeply disturbed, his denial automatic. "I don't know what you…"

"Tam, I already know they're going to do it." He couldn't keep the fatigue from his own voice; couldn't even be bothered trying. "Madine's told me many, many times."

The young soldier looked up, and Luke shook his head. "It's okay, just tell me. How many days, Tam?"

"Four days," Tam said quietly, confirming Luke's count. "I'm sorry…"

Four days…he wouldn't hold out for four more days, he knew that. He wouldn't. Decision made.

"I need to speak to Madine."  
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When the two soldiers came in Luke was already standing waiting, as close to the chair as the chain on his barked and bloody ankle would let him. They pulled him over anyway, pushed him to sit, then bound and tethered his wrists to the table. He waited, staring at his hands, holding his nerve.

Madine came in with his usual bluster, dragging his chair loudly behind him, and Luke looked up immediately, speaking quickly, wanting to lock himself into this path before he backed down. "Get your holo-link set up. I'll confess…I'll read whatever you want—on one condition: you do it now. You kill me when I've said it."

Standing opposite him, Madine smiled just slightly. "You got a death wish now?"

"You're right," Luke said, "I don't want to play these games anymore, I just want it over."

"I want the codes."

"The codes _don't exist_," Luke repeated, looking up, putting every inch of persuasion he could into it despite the hollow within him which should be charged by the Force.

Madine's eyes narrowed momentarily as he looked down at Luke, then he glanced once to the lens in the corner. Without hesitation he drew his blaster, leveling it at Luke's head, and Luke tensed but held still, feeling his jaw tighten as Madine spoke. "Right now?"

"Right now." Luke stared without blinking at his tethered hands, breaths coming short and fast.

The blaster pressed closer as Madine leaned in. "Say everything you did was a lie."

"Everything I did was a lie."

"Everything you _are _is a lie."

"Everything I am is a lie." He could hear the pound of his heart in his words.

"Say, long live the true Rebellion."

"Long live the true Rebellion."

The blaster pressed a little closer, and the sound of the safety snicking free grated through Luke like a rough blade.

"Say you want me to pull the trigger."

"I…want you to pull the trigger."

The outburst was incredible, an explosion of noise to Luke's overwrought senses, his whole body jarring—

as Madine kicked his chair away, pulling his blaster back at the same instant. He let out a rough, mocking laugh that bit deep into Luke's tattered nerves, chest frozen to breathlessness.

"Not interested," Madine said at last, still grinning. "Oh it's going ahead anyway, we gave a date for your execution on the viral we put out. But first, I want those codes."

He backed up as the other soldiers left. Luke stared at his hands, not yet able to pull himself from the edge enough to lift his head or speak as Madine looked him up and down, words laced with sardonic concern. "You really should try to get some rest. Long day tomorrow…and you look dead on your feet."  
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The door grated closed, the hiss of the vacuum beginning seconds before it slammed, leaving Luke tethered to the table and staring at his hands, every muscle locked to absolute stillness, every heartbeat a punch to his ribs, reality a distant haze.

The cell fell to darkness and Luke's frayed nerves jolted once at the jarring change. It was a long time before he became aware of the fact that he was sitting bolt upright, muscles still so taut that he'd begun to sway slightly forward and backward as they pulled in contention. Thoughts came back slowly, hazy and muddled but sharpening to an almost painful clarity, one single memory settling out of the mass of adrenaline-fed thoughts…

His father. His father's death… And for the first time, with it came Luke's slow, total, bone-deep understanding of Vader's actions on that final day, a perspective that until this moment, Luke could never possibly have comprehended—though now it seemed the most natural, innate thing in existence…

Because for the first time, Luke's perspective was that of a father, who would do anything—anything at all—to make his son's way in life easier. To protect him.

Was this what Vader had felt when he'd faced Palpatine? Had it been _for _Luke and not because of him, that he'd died that day? Had it been a _choice?_

Nathan's words came razor-sharp to Luke's reeling thoughts: _"…Give him this; this claim, this resolve, this decision. Give him this and be proud of him—because that's what he would have wanted."_

Luke had been truly willing to do the same here, tonight, believing that his own son would understand one day that Luke had done this willingly. He would hate to think for one single second that his son would ever hold himself responsible…

_"Give him this and be proud of him—because that's what he would have wanted."_

He remembered his father's words long ago, plucked from memories and moments with a clarity given only at this edge…

_"The Darkness has not taken away what I feel for my son… No matter how at odds or how powerful the Darkness, I cannot deny it. This is stronger." _

_This is stronger…_ Had his father, in the last, committed a selfless act of his own choice, to free Luke's hands…and in doing so, stepped beyond the Darkness that had bound him for so long? And if his father could do that…  
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Luke sat in the darkness, head spinning, stomach churning, holding it all together by nothing more than force of will because he'd be damned if he'd hand the Empire over to Madine. Damned if he'd die on that bastard's terms.

That same willful obstinacy that had always been at his core flared within him and he laughed, feeling scabs crack and twinge, remembering his father's fierce pride… _"You will look for a path, you will find a way, and you will make it happen."_

The demon—that demon that he saw in the darkness, that unbreakable, inexorable creature that Palpatine had forged from the shattered fragments of Luke Skywalker, that Darkness which Palpatine had bound inescapably within him… _"We are the same, you and I. Didn't I always tell you we were?"_

His father's words came in reply, old reassurances against Luke's constant doubts…

_"If Darkness could claim you it would have done so long ago."  
"How do you know that it hasn't?"  
"Darkness would not ask. Darkness would not care…  
You are slave to no one, Luke—neither Palpatine nor Darkness. You are beyond both. Understand that…"_

Could he be both—could he step beyond existing lore, take what strength he needed from the Dark path he'd walked, and survive, intact?

_"…if Darkness could claim you it would have done so long ago... You are slave to no one, Luke—neither Palpatine nor Darkness."_

The demon, that hated demon was, Luke knew, the very thing which was keeping him alive now. That dark, detested past had honed within him the tenacity and the willpower and the edge to survive.

And he reached for it; for the first time, he reached for it with the belief that it might save and not damn him. For the first time, he clung to it like a lifeline. It wouldn't pull him down because he wouldn't let it. He was, in every possible way, at the very brink: of life and death, of Light and Darkness, of realization...of _choice._  
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	43. Chapter 43

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**CHAPTER FORTY THREE**

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Han leaned back in his chair as he turned away from his quick check of the status console in the _Falcon's _main hold, and towards the dejarik table, where Leia and Jade sat to either end of the L-shaped acceleration couch, with the medic Nathan Hallin hunched down slightly and looking suitably nervous, considering he was dwarfed by a seriously short-tempered Chewie to his left.

After the information exchange yesterday with Karrde, people seemed a little more willing to come clean, so the day had started with everyone gathering in the hold to look at the standard plans for a CEC Class Six freighter and start to try to figure out what the hell they were going to do if they…_once they _actually found Luke.

"Okay…" Jade was first up, running her hands through her russet hair. "The first thing is, whatever you think he can do because he's Sith, he can't—not there."

Leia nodded. "Ysalamiri."

"Yes…how do you know about them?" Jade's surprise turned instantly into narrow-eyed suspicion.

"Madine told me. He has them in…in plexiglass bubbles at ceiling level all over the ship. I think he had some being carried on some kind of portable frame, too."

Jade nodded, mollified. "He can move them around, they're small enough—and as long as Luke's inside their influence, his connection to the Force is severed. That holds true through floors, ceilings, doors…you may not be able to see one close to him, but it could still be influencing him."

"How big an area are we talkin'?" Han asked.

"I don't know…six meters, maybe ten."

"Well, which is it?"

"I told you, I don't know. It doesn't seem to be a constant and not surprisingly, we weren't in the mood for a little leisurely experimentation last time. The other side of that is, Madine's men don't know either. There's no man-made sensor capable of assessing it, which means they _can't _know if or when Luke has access to the Force, once we can get him moving. Unless they actually have a live ysalamiri laid at his feet, they have no way to be sure."

"I didn't see one in the cell he was in," Leia said.

"Probably it was on the outside somewhere," Jade replied. "I told you, their influence works through any substance. Under those conditions, they'd keep them beyond reach. That way there's no chance of him getting to them."

"Okay, we see any of the little…hairy…lizard-snake-things, we shoot 'em, right?" Leia had given Han a description of the things, and really, that was as close as he ever wanted to get. Wildlife wasn't his thing, even when it _wasn't _likely to get someone he knew killed.

Jade nodded. "The fewer there are, the smaller the area they can cover and the more likely they are to leave gaps without even realizing it."

"I think we have a bigger problem, too," Leia said, eyes on the ship's schematics.

"We're talkin' aside from the forty or so professional soldiers shooting at us?" Han asked dryly from his seat across the bay.  
"Forty's not too bad," Jade shrugged.

"It's a little bigger than my lucky number, which is zero," Han maintained. "Never yet gotten shot with those odds."

"We might yet have time to get a full strike team onboard," Leia said.

They'd been updating the _Rand _and the _Zephyr _of their path every time they came out of lightspeed for a route change, and both Rebel ships had strike teams onboard, but right now both ships were roughly a day behind the _Falcon_, which was coming dangerously close to the leading edge of the Imperial search teams as they passed from the Mid Rim to the Inner Rim. Everyone was now quietly aware that they were relying on the code Talon Karrde had given them, and it did nothing to cool the general atmosphere.

Typically though, Jade wasn't willing to wait. "Once we see what's going on, we can make the decision as to whether to go in or wait for backup. But until then, we should assume we're going in alone." She glanced to Han. "If we do it right, they won't know we're there until we're leaving, which makes the number irrelevant."

Han leaned back, unoffended. "It's not the amount of guys shooting, sweetheart, it's how good their aim is."

"Which is true of us, too," Jade said confidently.

Han's eyes drifted towards the slight, well-spoken medic, who jerked straight. "What?"

"Nothin'."

Understanding the unspoken inference, the medic folded his arms as he leaned back. "You'll be thankful of me if you get shot."

"I'd rather be thankful of you because I _didn't _get shot, thanks."

"I think we may well need a medic," Leia said somberly, bringing all eyes to her.

"Throw it out then," Han said. "Might as well hear 'em all."

Leia hesitated a moment. "I think they've put a slave chip in Luke."

Jade tensed instantly. "Why say that?"

"He…when I spoke to him onboard the _Wasp_, Luke leaned forward at one point, to rest his head on the table… There was blood on his collar and in his hair, a lot, from a single wound at the base of his skull—that's where they put them, isn't it?"

Han let out a rough sigh. "That's where they put 'em."

Jade leaned her arm onto the dejarik table to rub her forehead, voice grim. "I saw that, when he was face down in the holo."

"Plus one of the soldiers said something about…Luke couldn't go outside of ninety meters, something like that."

"Ninety meter radius," Han said with a nod. "That's pretty limited. How big is the _Wasp_?"

Jade glanced to the plans. "One hundred-eighty."

"Great, so we can't actually get him off the Wasp without killing him."

Jade turned to Nathan. "You can cut it out."

Han shook his head. "You can't remove them surgically, not without disarming them first. They trigger on contact with air. Some of 'em trigger on sudden changes of light or temperature." He shrugged as all eyes turned to him. "I knew a few slavers in my time…Jabba dealt and dabbled regularly. I saw what happened when one of those things went off once as well."

"Is it survivable?" Jade asked too quickly.

"Not if it's at the base of his skull," Han said, shaking his head, trying to ignore the cold weight settling in his stomach. "The guy with it in his shoulder didn't survive; dropped him like a blaster shot…he never got up again. Blew a hole in his back big enough to put your fist in. I think he bled out—or maybe it was shock."

Leia turned anxiously to Hallin. "How quick could you get one out if you had to?"

The medic shook his head, his disgust obvious. "Captain Solo's right, they're millisecond-accurate—they're designed to prevent just this kind of tampering. I don't know a lot about them really—they're seldom covered in medical papers. I do know that without the code to deactivate it before extraction I would need to know the make as well as the type and model, so I could know what its specific anti-tamper properties were, and even then it would have to be removed under specialist conditions. At the very least, they're generally removed in a dark, airless atmosphere by surgical droids."

Han straightened. "And even if he could cut it out there and then, you're assuming we can get to Luke before Madine just triggers it remotely."

"So we go after the transmitter," Jade said, refusing to be discouraged. "What does it look like, is it portable?"

"Not big." Han hefted both his hands a short distance apart, as if he were carrying it. "Could be wired into the ship's power supply, could be portable. Smallish box, plain, a couple of status lights and usually a numeric keypad on top."

"We need to split up and do this quietly," Leia said decisively. "Two of us go after the transmitter, three go to get Luke out."

"Someone should wait on the _Falcon_," Han said. "Keep our escape route clear."

"Two and two then. Quietly, until we know we have the transmitter box."

Hallin frowned. "But…having the box and deactivating the chip are two different things."

"But if we have control of the box, no one's able to come in and trigger it manually. All that leaves is for the second team to get Luke."

"But not take him off the ship, unless that transmitter's portable," Han reminded pointedly. "We need to stay within ninety meters of that box. If it's wired in, we could be stuck there anyway."

Everyone fell to silence again, searching for a way forward in a situation that, deep down, Han knew damn well they'd be lucky to even locate…

Sitting well away from the table and staring mutely at the plans, Han's eye was caught by the repetitive movement of Jade's hand, rubbing in circles over her stomach. She glanced to him, and in that second he saw the absolute dread in her eyes, the desperate fear…then she looked down, expression hardening as she pulled her thoughts to the task at hand, the consummate soldier.

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Luke woke to the sound of the doors cycling open, a fresh gust of cool air replacing the stale atmosphere of the cell. Half-awake, he was yanked up and back off the bunk with enough force to push the air from him in a gasp, aching shoulders taking the strain, wrenched muscles pulling, legs cramping, unable to take his weight in that moment. Dragged to the table again, he was hauled roughly down though he never resisted, his hands forced forward to the restraints…

Then they backed off and Luke was left alone sitting at the table, uncomfortably balanced, his arms at too much of a stretch for his shoulders to maintain the position without a tremor setting in. He waited…

Too long without respite, his failing body sagged, head beginning to loll, shoulders slumping… Someone grabbed at the collar of his flightsuit from behind and shook him roughly, pulling him straight and forcing him upright. He sat up. The tremor set in. He waited…

Again.

Again.

That insular silence overtook him again as his body numbed, senses failing, a single tone blotting out his hearing, head beginning to drop. He tried to lift his hands to rub tired eyes, but they jerked to a halt almost immediately, an unwelcome reminder.

He waited…

A shadow moved over him in a flurry of noise, and Luke forced gritty eyes open to see Madine dragging a chair in to sit at the table. "Outside," he said to the soldiers.

They turned without looking back and the door closed with a hiss of vacuum as the corridor beyond depressurized.

Madine dropped a vo-corder onto the table before Luke, its clatter loud in the silence. He sat, a stony expression hardening his eyes as he stared for a long time at Luke, and Luke waited, jaw clamped, trembling twitches in tense muscles betraying his exhaustion.

On the table between them Madine placed two syringes of pale milky-white fluid, giving Luke long seconds to see them and consider the implications before he reached out and pulled the vo-corder closer to key playback:

Luke heard his own voice, words he didn't even remember speaking, sounding dragged and drowsy.  
_"Seventy…sixty-four…"_  
There was a sudden upheaval in the recording, a clamor of noise, the obvious clatter of a chair over hard floor, momentary interference as the vo-corder must have been knocked, then Madine's voice, raw with frustration. _"I pull this trigger and that's it, no more Sith, understand? The line ends with you, right now."_  
Luke's own voice again, a smile audible in the slurred word. _"No."  
"No?"  
"Too late."  
"What the hell does that mean?"_

Madine reached out to pause the vo-corder, keying for a new entry as his eyes came up to study Luke, who sat absolutely still, face expressionless.

His own voice again; this time he remembered speaking the words, only days ago…  
_"This needs to stop, not escalate—our children deserve the chance to grow up in a galaxy that isn't at war. I can give you peace by–"_

Madine stopped the vo-corder, and in the silence Luke listened to the whistling buzz of his blood in his ears as Madine re-keyed it.

_"I pull this trigger and that's it, no more Sith, understand? The line ends with you, right now."  
"No."  
"No?"  
"Too late."_

Then,

_"…our children deserve the chance to grow up in a galaxy that isn't at war."_

Madine settled his weight as he leaned forward, elbows on the desk, one fist clamped inside the other. Luke kept his eyes down as something seemed to collapse within him, aware of Madine's calculating gaze, held for long minutes as the silence crushed in.

"I think there's something you're not telling me," Madine growled at last, lifting the first syringe. "Let's see if we can remedy that."

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The call came in late, but no one was sleeping anyway, everyone waiting…what else could they do? Biting back her private anxiety, Mara slid onto the acceleration couch beside Nathan, Organa and Solo to his left, the Wookiee muscling in at the end.

"He's been on a rather circuitous route, your General," Talon Karrde said in that dry, level tone as he glanced to the side, obviously consulting a second screen. "He seemed to be heading out toward the Unknown Regions then thought better of it and turned Core-wards. The first series of messages originate from Sinsang in the Raioballo Sector, as you said."

"Yeah I know I said that, I was there at the time." Tired and tense, Solo was eager to usher Karrde along, and Mara couldn't blame him.

"Then we extrapolated ten comms from the Borosk asteroid belt." Karrde glanced up to the holo lens. "Very independent man, your General. Doesn't like to call in a lot of outside help. Eight of those calls were ship-to-ship, to an unknown vessel in the Bajic Sector. We've tried to crack them, but it's a clever code system—Ghent's still working on those."

"That was us," Solo said, breaking every Intel rule Mara had been taught by giving up the fact without hesitation. "He was speaking to the Alliance."

"Ten messages?" Leia Organa frowned, turning to the Corellian. "We only have three logged."

"Not surprising," Karrde said dryly. "He used a total of four different call frequencies and three different ciphers, all to that one location."

"You decoded them?" Organa asked, amazed.

Mara made a silent note to make sure she stayed in contact with Karrde, understanding now why Luke used him.

"Only enough to tag Madine's voice." Karrde moved quickly on, glancing to the side as he read from his screen again. "His next jump was to Telti in the Inner Rim—there's a moon in-system of the same name which has an extensive droid manufacturing facility. A mid-bulk freighter would have seemed very much at home there. Dates put him there when he released the first viral. He'd changed the freighter's name and its call frequency, but we got a positive ID on four separate messages coming from there, two going to the Quence Sector and two to Tholatin in the Mid Rim, or one of its moons."

"The holo was sent out from Telti?" Mara asked.

"No—well, we don't think so, the viral's origin was too well hidden code-wise. You'd need a guaranteed early-generation copy to pull that kind of information. My slicer Ghent thinks it may have been a sealed packet within one of those four outgoing transmissions, but was actually distributed across the HoloNet from another site entirely."

"The Quence sector stuff was to the Alliance fleet," Solo confirmed again. "That's where we were at the time."

"From there we lose him I'm afraid," Karrde admitted. "He stopped using the Vandaxa Relay Station, but that was only two days ago. Ghent's left a tag in the system, so if Madine uses that relay again we'll know instantly."

"Well then, that leaves us just one place to go," Solo said, leaning back as the Wookiee keened a confirmation.

Karrde nodded. "Essau's Ridge."

Organa frowned. "Essau's...?"

"Essau's Ridge," Solo repeated. "It's the one built-up area on Tholatin. If there's a shady deal going on anywhere, you can link it back to the shadows down in Essau's Ridge eventually."

"I know a few people there, I'll see if I can dig anything up." Karrde's tone had a finality to it, but as Solo reached out to pull the switch Nathan leaned forward from beside Mara, hand out.

"Wait! Did you say you had a slicer onboard?"

Mara could have kissed him, realizing where he was heading.

Karrde paused, uncertain. "Yes."

Nathan glanced around nervously, then back to the holo. "Because they've put a slave chip in the Emperor."

Karrde's face hardened to cover his unease. "You're sure?"

With the information out now, Mara leaned forward. "Pull up the HoloNet images—look at the back of his collar when he's lying face down before they turn him over."

"Wait." Karrde reached slightly to the side, working a keyboard to bring up the image as he glanced away. "Aves, go and get Ghent."

The silence stretched as Karrde remained still, clearly studying the same images they'd all stared at repeatedly today. "Looks like it. Slave chips are problematic."

"No kidding," Solo said dryly as he glanced to Mara. "I hope you're not gonna let him charge you for _that _little nugget."

"Can you decode it?" Nathan asked.

"Yes, but it takes around nine hours, even at a push, and I'm assuming you may be on a tighter schedule than that. Do you know how many people have the trip code?"

Solo shook his head. "Knowing Madine, not many."

Karrde tilted his head. "Thank _you _for that useful little nugget."

"Let's say we can pretty much guarantee it'll be more than one but less than five," Mara said grimly. "And since we don't know who they are, taking out the people who have the trip code instead of the box itself isn't an option. We also think it has a range of just ninety meters."

Karrde's lips narrowed. "Wait there."

The line cut, and everyone waited in tense silence before Nathan, playing nonchalantly with the controls of the holo-table, muttered beneath his breath with that particular tone of self-righteous offense that only he could ever muster, "So not _everything _comes down to whether you can shoot straight, then…"

Solo made an exaggerated turn, leaning back to give the full glare. "Listen, ya little Kowakian…"

Nathan was saved from the rest of Solo's diatribe when the comm fired up and Karrde reappeared, seeming no less relaxed "Ghent thinks he can make a ghost box."

Beside Mara, Organa leaned in. "A ghost box?"

"It's a box of tricks that, if you can get it close to the original, will sample the signal, create a loop and transmit it again as if it's the real source. It enables you to emulate the code so that you can go outside the range of the original. Keep it close to the Emperor and the chip won't trigger."

"But?" Mara prompted, knowing from his tone that there was more.

"But…if the original is a more expensive set-up with a tiered code, apparently it may generate a repeating flux every so often within that code. If the ghost box doesn't sample the original signal at a point when it's incorporating that flux, it won't have it as part of the fake signal, and when the slave chip doesn't receive the flux at the correct interval, or if the interval timing is wrong…"

"How widely spaced are the fluxes generally?"

"Ghent's checking now. He's done this before once and he seems to remember the pulses being around six hours apart, so that's a good window of opportunity."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Solo said hopefully.

"Unless it's due to make the pulse a minute after you switch signals," Nathan said, sitting back. "That's the gamble, isn't it?"

Karrde nodded somberly. "That's the gamble."

"Wait a minute," Han added. "Your guy's done this _once!"_

"You're landing in Essau's Ridge," Karrde said smoothly. "If it bothers you, you'll probably be able to source two or three slicers who are capable enough to make and sell their own version of a ghost box. I can guarantee you that none of them are even a patch on Ghent's abilities." There was a brief pause as Karrde looked down to the desk before him, tone long-suffering. "Stop grinning, Ghent."

Organa turned. "Nathan, how long to take it out surgically? We can hold back until the _Rand _arrives—it's less than a day behind us and it has a full medi-bay. It can be set up, ready to go."

"Less than an hour, I'd imagine. But every minute we run the slave-chip on the fake signal, we're tempting fate."

Mara turned back to the holo. "Are there any other options?"

Karrde glanced about above the level of the HoloNet lens, clearly looking to those onboard his own ship, but shook his head. "No, slave-chips are really only designed to do one thing, so they tend to do it very well. Are you assuming that Madine's freighter will be alone?"

Solo nodded. "Yeah, he doesn't play well with others."

"How many onboard?"

"We're not sure—he took out four units, all Special Ops and all presumably loyal to him, which is sixty soldiers, but the Bothans have reported seeing a dozen of his men on Ord Mirit, just outside the Core Systems, and at least four on Commenor. They were on the _Tishi_, which was one of the four Alliance-owned shuttles onboard the _Wasp_, so we know they came from there."

Mara frowned, turning from the holo. "When did you hear that?"

"About an hour ago, when we dropped out of lightspeed for the course change."

"And when were you intending to tell us?"

Solo straightened. "Just as soon as your damn Empress stops pointing her finger and her fleet at us!"

Nathan leaned forward to subtly block Mara and Han's views of each other. "Perhaps we could concentrate on the matter at hand and leave the whole galactic peace thing until we've got those who can actually do something about it sitting at the same table?"

Mara leaned back, aware that Solo had a point. "She's not _my _Empress…" she muttered at last.

It was Karrde who broke the deadlock. "Could we get the type and call-signs of the other shuttles from the _Wasp_?"

Leia Organa nodded. "We'll get that to you." She turned pointedly to Mara. "And to you."

"Thank you," Karrde said smoothly. "Forty Special Ops soldiers—I hope you have a lot of artillery for back-up."

He didn't need nearly the length of silence which followed to work it out.

"We have plenty of back-up," Solo said at last. "Trouble is, it's almost a day behind us."

"I see… We're heading towards Essau's Ridge ourselves, as it happens," Karrde said casually at last. "Perhaps we can meet you there?"

Mara's eyes came back to the holo, wondering how, of all the smuggling groups in the galaxy, Luke had found Karrde. Most would have nodded and said, 'Good luck.' She doubted very much that it was coincidence that Luke had decided to use Karrde's group—or maintained that connection when he'd become Emperor. He'd seemed always so capable of bringing out the best in people, simply by having that silent, stubborn, steadfast _faith _in them—sometimes in the most unlikely circumstances. She leaned back, seriously considering for the first time… What if he could have brought about peace, with that same dogged commitment? If anyone could have achieved that, it would have been Luke…

And why had she just thought about him in the past tense?

Her heart pounded at that, throat constricting. So many times she'd mercilessly upbraided others for it, yet the more they closed in—the more those hours trickled by and those problems grew—the more she knew that she was silently bracing for the worst.

_I won't let him go… _Ignoring those around her, Mara shook her head, jaw clenching. _You want to see stubborn, Skywalker? I'll show you what stubborn really is._

"How far away are you?" Solo's question pulled her from her reverie as Karrde glanced off-screen, and Mara could make out a man's voice just beyond mic range.

"Aves tells me we're less than a day away if we push our engines—maybe early evening tomorrow. You?"

Solo glanced to the hold ops console, making mental calculations. "We're already heading towards the Crush…mid-afternoon, probably. That gives us a day and a half to actually find him."

Karrde nodded somberly. "Take any berth. We use the Ridge a lot, I'll find you."

Solo nodded. "We'll see you there. Oh, how many are you bringing to the party?"

"Six, onboard the _Wilde Karrde_. Actually five; I wouldn't give Ghent a blaster if my life depended on it." Karrde shrugged into Han's silence, voice laced with his usual dry wit. "Try not to think of it as five people—look upon it as doubling your numbers."

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It was the early hours of the morning when Mara walked into the main hold, automemo in hand. Still awake and sitting in Nathan's cramped cabin, they'd noticed a few minutes ago that they'd dropped out of hyperspace. Probably a course change, but it was the ideal opportunity to get the information about the _Wasp's _shuttles to Admiral Joss, so Mara had headed over to the main hold.

As she entered, she glanced to the dejarik table where Solo was slouched into the acceleration couch, the HoloNet winding down to static as he deactivated it. Leia Organa was sitting up close, her weight resting against him, his arm casually thrown across the back of the couch and her shoulders. The easy intimacy fired a gaping, desolate loneliness in Mara which took her completely by surprise.

"Sorry." She glanced quickly away, wishing she hadn't told Nathan she'd do this now. "I was just going to ask about the call signs for the shuttles."

"Your friend the Scarlet Empress is out and about again," Solo said dryly, nodding to the deactivated holo-emitter. "She's all over the HoloNet news channels, doing walkabouts again today. Apparently our Scarlet Empress…'_takes strength from her people'_."

"I told you, she's not my Empress," Mara reiterated. Still, she knew this was Solo's way of an apology for their earlier flare-up. She was starting to figure him out, mostly because he was a lot like herself—and for people like them, the fact that they were still talking at all was as close as you got to an apology.

"Scarlet Empress," Mara scorned at last, leaning back onto the hold's Ops console. "I bet she started that herself."

There'd been countless images of D'Arca in the last week, always wearing white, walking amongst _her _people, the multitudes who had taken up a vigil outside the Palace gates, Victory Square lit by thousands of candles every night. And Kiria D'Arca, walking among them every day soon after dawn, looking so fragile and so _very _sincere.

"She's sure startin' something," Solo said wryly.

Leia Organa was still staring at the spot the HoloNet had projected into, lost in thought. "Did you hear her speech in response to the Alliance's disavowal of Madine? It was good—she's very good—she never once directly said that we were still to blame. She was going for the '_Alliance is turning on its own now,'_ line. Says we're breaking apart under the pressure that her military's putting on us."

Mara raised an eyebrow. "_Her _military?"

Solo shrugged. "Last time I checked, she was Empress."

"In name only—only ever in name."

"Seems to have it pretty much sewn up to me."

"The D'Arcas…" Organa shook her head, still scowling at the deactivated HoloNet. "Don't get me talking about the D'Arcas."

Mara felt a surge of interest at her depreciating tone. "No, please do."

"New power in an ambitious old Mid-Rim family, who made their wealth and climbed the ranks by backing Palpatine. I can't work out what Luke was doing marrying her in the first place, other than…" Leia paused, eyes flicking to Mara in question.

Mara allowed a slight tilt of her head, and Leia straightened.

"A political marriage!"

Solo too sat straighter. "A sham?"

"A contract," Mara corrected. "To bring the Royal Houses into line."

"Well, she did that alright," Leia said wryly. "But still…no, I don't think Luke would place her in the line of succession just to gain control of the Royal Houses. He knows it would be putting the old regime back on the throne and that's not what he wants."

"He didn't…I did."

"You? How could…"

Mara remained still, holding Leia's gaze as she watched those astute brown eyes start to piece it all together…

"You were Regent? You were Regent," Organa repeated, "and you handed over power…to Kiria D'Arca!"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"What Luke had presumably asked you to—because I don't think for one minute that it was this!"

"I _am _doing what Luke asked me to! I'm trying my damnedest to make sure that everything he intended comes about—and the only way I know how to do that is to get him back, because he is the _only _one who can pull this off. But to get him back I had to be free from Coruscant, and to be away from Coruscant, I had to put someone in charge who the populous would accept and stand behind. I had to put someone in charge who seemed the logical choice, and who I know damn well will defer when Luke comes back. D'Arca tried to help Luke with the ring—that was all her doing. She pulled the Royal Houses behind him with that, and she has the populous eating out of her perfectly manicured hand with this wronged wife routine she does so well. Scarlet Empress," Mara repeated contemptuously.

"So, wait," Solo drawled. "If you don't like her, why d'you give her power?"

"Because she was the right person to give it to, strategically," Mara defended. "She thinks in political terms and we need that right now—Luke does. Look at what she's doing! She knows how to rally people to the cause."

"Hell yeah," he said derisively. "She's made Luke into a martyr and he's not even dead yet."

"I'm not going to let all Luke's plans fall apart. He told me not to, and I won't. He married Kiria D'Arca because he needs the Royal Houses behind him when changes begin to happen, and if that means I have to give her a little extra rope right now then so be it."

"A little extra rope?" Organa asked. "She's put out a warrant for your arrest as a traitor!"

Mara shook her head. "She won't take power from Luke, I know that."

"But what happens if Luke doesn't come back—what happens if that control is gone? Did it not occur to you that if Luke had wanted to risk turning power over to her, he would have placed her in the line of succession himself? Everyone already looks to her as the public face of the Empire now the Emperor's gone."

"He's not gone!"

Organa sat forward, wide awake despite the late hour. "When you passed over power, did you sign a document?"

"Yes."

"Who drew it up?"

"I don't know." Mara heard her own voice sharpening at the cross-examination. "I asked for it to be drawn up and I read it, all of it. Kiria has limited powers—I handed executive power over to her, but it was only in the absence of the Emperor."

"In the _absence _of the Emperor? Did it make reference to an interregnum, a break in the chain of monarchy?"

Mara blinked. It was easy to forget that the woman sitting before her, wearing fatigues and traveling on a tramp Rebel freighter, had been a member of the Alderaanian royal family with a background in, and years of well-versed knowledge as, one of the ruling elite. And as such, this would once have been her arena. And if she was worried right now, then maybe Mara should listen…

"If the document didn't refer specifically to rule _during an interregnum_—a temporary break in the line of monarchy—then failing any other document coming to light, it effectively becomes the line of succession." Leia's shrewd gaze held on Mara. "Did the transfer of power contract you drew up limit her access to any existing documents?"

Mara shook her head. "She's loyal to Luke…I know she is."

"But you have to admit, with you out of the way, it clears her path—and now you can't go back." Organa's eyes narrowed astutely. "I know the D'Arcas, they have absolute loyalty to their sovereign—that's what got them where they are. But they're an ambitious family. This isn't about whether they'd overthrow the legitimate Emperor—they never would—it's about whether they'd have the nerve _and the authority_ to step up into the power vacuum if he was gone."

"If he didn't trust them, Luke wouldn't have given them that kind of…"

Realization, when it came, was a surge of panic which threatened to engulf Mara. Here she was, reassuring herself that Luke would never have given the D'Arcas this much power if he'd believed that there was _any chance_ they'd do this—

But he hadn't given them this opportunity…she had. In fact he'd had a lengthy contract drawn up before the marriage specifically to ensure against it. And now…now, Mara had done the one thing that Luke had deliberately avoided: she'd given them the mandate, the legal claim. Leia was right; Luke had kept them from the line of succession by choice, but this was the one thing he'd never allowed for in his dealings with the D'Arcas, because he would never have allowed it to happen in the first place.

Mara pushed to standing, hand before her mouth as she remembered Kiria's claim at Mara's suggestion that she take temporary power—remembered the brightness of her eyes, the quickening of her voice: _"Understand this; if you give me power, I shall use it…"_

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"It will be fine." The solid, reassuring tone of a new voice brought Mara's head about.

Nathan was standing in the loop corridor, how long he'd been there Mara didn't know. But he shook his head now as he walked forward, voice soft and strong and very sure. "It will be fine because Luke's coming back, and that renders all of this a moot point." He came to a halt before her, hand on Mara's shoulder. "He _is _coming back."

Mara let out a long, shaky breath. "Well, now we have to get him back."

"As opposed to before, when we were just coming here on the off-chance, because we had nothing better to do," Nathan said dryly, a twist of shared amusement lighting those big brown eyes—and Mara couldn't help but smile.

Still, she felt a fresh pang of anxiety as she looked at the hold's occupants, a rag-tag mix of wary enemies held together by nothing more substantial than their concern; their need to find one man.

And the truth was, already they were beginning to discuss what would happen when they didn't…

She felt her head shake as the weight of what they were trying to do came crashing down upon her, the words escaping unbidden. "We're not going to make it, are we?"

"Yes, we are. Mara, we know where we're going now—we'll be there in twelve hours." There was comfort in his absolute tone…but not enough.

"We'll be in the Tholatin System," she corrected, blinking as her eyes misted. "After that…we have no idea—none at all. We have less than forty hours to find him, in a system with seven planets and nine moons. How likely is that?"

He squeezed her shoulder again. "About as likely as an Emperor and an assassin? Or how about that Emperor having once been a Rebel pilot?" He smiled gamely. "Besides, you know Luke; unlikely is his specialty."

Behind him, Solo let out a brief laugh. "I thought gettin' in trouble was his specialty."

Nathan gave Mara's shoulders one last squeeze, then turned. "I think that's more his raison d'être."

"Don't get me started," Solo said easily.

"I actually came for the callsigns of the _Wasp's _shuttles, to pass on," Nathan said, taking the automemo from Mara's hand. "Madine's men were clearly heading Core-wards, which makes it likely that Imperial enforcement could pick them up. I'd very much like to know what they're doing."

"Yeah, you and me both, pal," Solo said, straightening.

"I can get them—" Mara started.

But having taken it from her, Nathan was unwilling to concede the automemo now. "If you want to do something useful, you should eat, since you're up anyway. You think I didn't spot that you skipped dinner?"

"How is _that _useful?" Solo asked.

His back to the Corellian as he'd turned to Mara, Nathan's eyes widened. "Because… Mara's…hypoglycemic."

Mara straightened. "No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are…it's just that your judgment's impaired right now because you haven't eaten."

Mara knew exactly what he was doing, of course, but she had no intention of taking on an imaginary medical condition just because Nathan had talked himself into a corner again. "No, it's _not_."

"See, now you're getting aggressive."

"Seriously," Solo deadpanned, "are you an actual medic? Or are you a medic in the same way that you're useful in a gunfight?"

It was Leia Organa who salvaged the situation by rising and heading for the short corridor that led to the _Falcon's _cockpit. "Let's get you those shuttle ID's, shall we, Nathan? You might just have time to pass them on before we go to lightspeed."

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Throwing a withering glance at Solo as he passed him, Nathan followed the dainty ex-Senator down the corridor, marveling that she could be elegant even here, dressed in fatigues. Fortunately, her smalltalk was also a tad more refined than the Corellian's, taking Nathan's thoughts off his gaffe with Mara.

"You have quite a turn of inspirational speech there, Nathan," she said conversationally as she sat in the pilot's chair, pulling up details from the side-console. "You should be a politician."

"You know, someone else said that to me recently too."

She turned, huge chocolate brown eyes so expressive. "Luke?"

He glanced down, suddenly uncomfortable. "Yes."

"Do you…believe what you said back there?"

"I believe I _should _believe—for myself, and for Mara." When Leia was silent for long seconds, Nathan felt the urge to move the conversation on quickly, before she pressed him further. "I wonder, can I send the message directly from here?"

Accepting of his avoidance, she turned, leaning over the console. "If you want to put in your contact code, I can send it from here." She frowned, glancing at the small screen. "You have an incoming message too."

It was from Joss, of course, an update confirming that he could detach three reliable Destroyers from the search fleet without alerting Coruscant as to why, and have them at the Crush in just under two days, another six already being deployed along that same axis, to be available less than a day later. There was one more piece of interesting information in the message, sent on from Commander Arco, still on Coruscant: two days ago, the Imperial shuttle Nathan and Mara had been traveling in had shown up on a routine check of the shipping lanes in the Corellian Run. In line with her command, the fact had immediately been brought to the Empress's attention…and she'd given the order to let it pass unmolested. Interesting…

When he looked up, Leia Organa's searching eyes were still held on him, disconcertingly sharp. "May I ask—Mara Jade, she said Luke had placed her as Regent?"

Nathan glanced quickly down. "Yes, that's right."

"I'm…confused as to why she wouldn't follow through on Luke's command. I don't think it's out of lack of loyalty." Leia hesitated slightly, her next words rising just slightly in pitch, the sense of a discreet question behind them. "Quite the opposite…"

"I might ask the same of you, the Commander-in-Chief of the Rebellion."

Leia frowned, glancing away just a fraction too quickly. "I'm here because of our meetings. Because I…I think Luke was sincere in his intent. We'll get him out, then we continue the talks and we sort this out—everything, once and for all."

"Everything?"

"Everything. We'll open formal negotiations, put his schedule in place—for as long as he's instituting changes towards democratic reform, the Alliance will honor a ceasefire."

"Ah," Nathan nodded slowly, putting this together with all that he already knew and finally seeing the larger picture. What Luke was really up to, what he intended…all of it.

Organa frowned, those soft, smoky eyes calculating. "You didn't know."

Nathan shrugged, wondering why he didn't feel more shocked; the answer, of course, was obvious. "I…expected as much—more so, as time went on." He managed a cavalier grin. "Though you never really know with Luke."

Leia smiled, glancing down as she tipped her head slightly to the side—and it reminded Nathan of someone so completely, but he couldn't quite grasp who…

"You know him well?" she asked.

"Well enough to know how little anyone really knows him."

"I thought I did, once," she said distantly. "I just… Why Mothma? Why did he go after her?"

Nathan sighed. "You want the truth? I think Luke offered the same deal to Mothma that he offered to you…and I think she declined. The assassination attempt…it clarified for Luke that the old leadership would never solve this, on either side of the divide."

"Mon was a great stateswoman…"

"Who signed an order sanctioning Luke's assassination. Everything changed for Luke after that—that's when he began taking matters into his own hands, because he _knew _it needed new leadership on both sides without the prejudices of having seen the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire. He wanted a new start, and he couldn't guarantee that unless the old leadership was gone." Nathan paused, studying her face, pinched in consideration. "What do you think it was?"

She didn't look up. "Revenge."

"No, I think you know him better than that."

"That's just it; I want to believe I do, but…" She trailed off, uncertain.

"He'd been in contact with you for so long already, but he'd never moved, never made face-to-face contact at a time when, for him, it would have been so much easier to do. I think he knew he couldn't move with Mon in power because he knew she'd reject him, and he had no idea of what to do to break the status quo. I can tell you for a fact it never once occurred to him to take the offensive and remove Mothma without reason—not once. He moved only when Mothma had moved against him, when she'd tried to kill him. That truly did change everything—more than you could possibly know. Luke believed he had to remove Mothma and put you in power. New leadership; someone whom he trusted, someone whom he thought he could make this deal with."

"He could have tried harder with Mon. He didn't have to do what he did."

"I told you, _everything _changed for Luke."

Leia watched him for long seconds, uncertain… "No…no, he was already serving Palpatine—he'd just been named Heir."

"I spoke to him about that when he was still in the medi-center after the assassination attempt…you know he was in a coma for twenty-three days; that we almost lost him on that first day. He had four seizures on the operating table due to hypoxia; his heart stopped three times. Twice we rushed him back into surgery when he was bleeding out—internal hemorrhaging. He had a total of eight operations in that first week. The initial trauma surgery was sixteen hours. It was just short of three months before he left my medi-center, almost two more before he could walk."

Organa had the good grace to look down, frowning.

"When I asked him about being named Heir…he told me that he thought Palpatine had done it to force a reaction from the Rebellion, that he wanted to drive that final wedge between yourselves and Luke because…" Nathan trailed off, the facts becoming obvious.

Organa shook her head. "No, the man I knew wouldn't have turned on Mon, even if he believed it was for the greater good. He would have found another path."

"Perhaps," Nathan allowed. "Perhaps he's not quite the same—how could he be, given all that's happened? But I'll tell you this: I know for a fact that when he fought for your Rebellion, he believed absolutely in what he was doing, would have given his life for those beliefs. You—forgive me—you abandoned him, turned on him, tried very hard to kill him…almost succeeded. And yet he _still _believed that given the chance you'd make the right choice—wanted to try, to give you every opportunity, even at his own risk. Despite everything, he _still _wanted to trust you…he still does. Now tell me again that he isn't the man you knew."

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The first thing Luke felt was the sharp, dragging sting of a needle being pulled free of his vein. Slowly his dull eyes pulled grey walls into focus. It took long seconds for the blur hovering over him to coalesce into the form of Madine stepping up and back.

Luke tried to turn the Force inwards, searching for focus, but nothing came, no swell of power answered his call. He closed his eyes and the world swirled sickeningly around him so that for a few seconds he was sure he was falling.

He caught himself with a jolt which ran the length of his body, head still swimming, heart pounding in his chest.

Madine spoke but Luke couldn't work out the words, attention still held by his futile search for connection, any sense at all, no matter how faint. He wanted so much to hear it, to sense it about him, the beat of the universe; craved it even if it gave him no aid, just to be complete again. Without it, he felt so much as he had in his youth, as if some vital part of himself were missing, some deeper connection unanswered.

Some deeper connection…

The burst of adrenaline which accompanied this gave Luke the energy to try to rise, and he rolled to his side whilst the room whirled in blurred waves. Gritting his teeth against rising nausea Luke pushed up, unable to resist the urge to bring his hand up to hold his head still against the spinning, eyes closed, all too familiar with this thick haze, this particular queasy, aching, heavy-limbed dullness…

He opened his eyes, trying hard to focus on his hands before him…why were they free? He looked past them to the far side of the brightly lit cell as the walls crawled, distorting beyond his failing vision's ability to process—and suddenly he was falling again, everything whipping away. He clutched for the table to stop himself…then realized it wasn't there; he was sitting on the angled iron at the edge of his bunk—

And no one was there…he was alone in the bright cell—had someone been there at all?

His mind sharpened again too quickly, and Luke knew the drugs hadn't been real; it was a flash-back, a momentary aberration… He tried to stand, the chain about his ankle barking skin and open wounds as it fell in a coil to the floor and he staggered helplessly to the side, the room tilting. _Not real…it's not real._

His shoulder scraped into the curved wall, head hitting hard enough to create a flash of bright white in his vision, and Luke felt his legs give way as he dropped to the floor, reality reeling. Unable to fight the overwhelming urge, he lay down before he passed out, curling up, the gritty, uneven floor cool against his face. He closed his eyes for just one second…

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_Old dream...this was an old dream; he was still laid on his side as he had been in the cell, but now the ground was cold and rough and damp. Tall, twisted trees rustled in the night's cloying breeze, which gave no relief to fevered skin. As the leaves trembled he heard whispers within them, tumbling through the trees in brief, broken fragments, carried on the wind. Words, moments, memories whipped up like zephyrs, lucid for one intense instant then gone the next, falling away and losing clarity as they collapsed to the power of the rising storm… _

_Then a light, soft and warm, like the reflection of the sun into the deep darkness of a cave, a gentle reassurance of the warmth of the day, just steps away. But this light came from a form which crouched beside him in the wild darkness, a figure in white, a soft cowl covering rich, mahogany-brown hair… Leia—Leia as he remembered her when he'd first set eyes on her, in her senatorial robes of pure white—pure light… And she reached down to touch his face with such compassion in her eyes. But even as she reached out she faded, so that by the time her hand touched him it had so little substance that it passed through him, a cool tremor across heated skin. _

_And the dark forest and the cool earth settled to nothing, insubstantial as ever. Only the storm remained, contained within his ragged breath and pounding heart and desperate fear that something…something…_

_._

Luke opened his eyes and he was lying on the floor several paces away from his bunk, curled up on his side, numb from the cold…and he had no idea, none at all, of how he'd gotten there.

He pushed himself to sitting but had to remain still for long minutes before he even tried to rise enough to stumble back to the canvas bunk, the thin blanket pitifully inadequate. He dropped down, rolling onto his side to curl up… Hard shards hidden beneath the blanket dug into his hip and leg and for long moments Luke struggled to remember what they were…

Fragments of the vo-corder, gathered from the floor when Luke had thrown it there many days ago, shattering its casing. Hard-won items, bundled into his faded flightsuit as he'd been knocked down among them. He remembered now, remembered his intention—the door. They would hold the door seal open if he timed it right—just enough to break that seal. He brought a trembling hand up to massage his forehead, drained, remembering that he had to use the scrambler to move the bunk again tonight, a fraction closer to the door. If they kept him like this, it would make no difference in the end. The desire to close his eyes and sleep was monumental...just for a moment...just one moment.

_Do this because you swore you'd not give Madine this win. _

When he closed his eyes the room spun dizzily and he gritted his teeth. He didn't care. He didn't care any more.

_Do it for Mara._

The barest smile came to his split lips at the thought of forest green eyes, vibrant as a new leaf in sunlight, and a flash of brilliant russet-red, every shade from warm blond to darkest auburn… _Do it to see if your son will have that hair._

_Your son…_

Madine's face came abruptly to mind, smug and knowing: _"I think there's something you're not telling me."_

The two syringes on the table…

Too much; this was a reaction to too much of the drug. Madine had overdosed him to try to get the truth…and the terrifying thing was, Luke had no idea if he'd told him. All he had was one fact, and he clung to it now:

Mara was half a galaxy away, safe on Coruscant.

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	44. Chapter 44

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**CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR**

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Mara sat wide awake on the battered acceleration couch in the _Falcon's _main hold, unable to sleep through the dreams any more, thoughts racing. They had forty hours to find Luke—forty. She was now beginning to count the time in terms of hours and not days.

It was the tightly battened-down sense of suppressed panic at that realization which was tearing through her thoughts when Leia Organa came stumbling sleepily into the main bay in the early hours of the morning, both women looking at the other in surprise.

Pulling her coat tighter over her worn sleepwear, Organa flicked her thick mane of loose dark hair back to glance through tired eyes at Mara. "Can't sleep?"

Mara looked down to the cup of caf before her. "Weird dream."

Organa nodded. "Me, too. Any more of that?"

Mara tipped her head towards the _Falcon's _basic galley. "Help yourself."

As an afterthought, when Organa returned to sit to the far side of the scratched and battered holo-table, Mara added, "Probably best not to tell Nathan I'm drinking caf or he'll gather your whole ship's supply and vac it out of the airlock."

Organa frowned. "That's one strict medic."

Mara realized instantly what she'd done in her tired state, but kept her face straight. "Well, you know, he's very into…his...health-kicks."

Organa raised one eyebrow at that, but said nothing, and Mara rushed to move the conversation on. "So what was your dream?"

"Wolves," Leia said, staring at her mug. "Or rather, my wolf."

Mara's whole body twitched as she worked to keep her voice neutral. Her own visions of the wolf had come again tonight, breaking through her sleep…but why would Leia Organa dream of the wolf…how? "You dream about wolves?"

Organa's eyes stayed on her drink as she twisted her heavy hair into a loose coil over her shoulder. "I dream about my black wolf—not in a bad way, not any more. It's always there though, standing in my shadow. But tonight it…"

"Tonight it disappeared," Mara finished knowingly, bringing Organa's eyes to her own.

Leia nodded. "Tonight it… I couldn't touch it, couldn't feel it—it was like a hole in the galaxy exactly that shape. It's always been there, the wolf, for so long now. So completely, utterly _real_; sometimes it was the most undeniable, abiding thing in existence, but tonight… Tonight…it was like the ghost of a memory…it faded away beneath my hand."

"It's Luke, isn't it?" Mara said evenly. "The wolf…it's Luke."

Organa looked quickly away, her long, dark hair falling in a rich tumble of loose, mahogany-brown curls to veil her delicate face—and Mara blinked; blinked again…

It took long seconds for her to track down the jolt in her memory as Leia Organa's hair had fallen in a drape of dark curls. Long seconds to chase down the memory of another woman with the same elegant, round face and big, serious brown eyes framed by that incredible mass of dark auburn hair…

The holo on Luke's desk: the delicate old tarnished silver holo-projector, the woman's image:

_._

_"I'm fat."  
"You're glowing."_

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She stared, just stared at Leia for the longest time, running the facts over and over in her head…and something else, some deeper knowledge, some flare of comprehension that buzzed within the Force itself…

They were related—Organa and the woman in the old holo—mother and daughter, Mara was almost sure of it. She frowned; but why would Luke have a holo of Leia Organa's mother on his desk? He had so very little that he kept as his own, why bother to…

_Something more, something bigger…_ That moment; the feeling that Luke had tried so often to describe, but nothing had done it justice—that sense of the galaxy itself holding its breath in anticipation…

Mara's own thoughts, just seconds earlier, played through her mind: _Why would Leia Organa dream of the wolf…how?_

How?

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_"Don't—Annie, don't, I look terrible."  
"You look beautiful."_

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The man's voice from the holo-projector, deep and soft but still very young, with a loose, easy Rim-world accent.

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_…"Annie, don't"…  
…"Annie"…_

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And Luke's words, quickly spoken in the Wasp's hangar bay; that loose Rim-world accent: _"Mara—Anakin; his name should be Anakin."_

Anakin; Annie…

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_"…carry you in my pocket everywhere."  
"Really? Then take this: I love you, Annie. I always will." _

_._

The holo on Luke's desk was of his mother, taken by his father. Luke's father, before he'd become Vader. Luke's mother…with those same big brown eyes, those same delicate features set in that same rounded face as Leia!

No. The odds against it were… But then, it explained so much. Luke's choice of Leia, his _absolute _trust of her. How many people did he actually trust to that degree—how many could he have forgiven for what Organa had done?

And Leia Organa; her decision to leave her precious Rebellion even for a short time to come in search of the man who should be her mortal enemy… What were the chances of that? How much persuasion had the woman really needed?

Organa was looking at Mara now, a frown creasing the point just above the start of each eyebrow, so much like the woman in the holo…

Mara remembered again the Force-vision that Luke had so carefully led her through; remembered the power of it, infinitely vast, like the turning of the universe, dragging all things in its wake:

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_Twin suns, a blood red moon, everything changing, old loyalties tested... _

_Binary suns eclipsing, fading into twin rings carved into gold, interlocked, interbalanced, interdependent. _

_._

The throne, Luke had said: the Seat of Prophesy, its huge backrest comprised of two suns, back-to-back…and the inscription beneath the base of the throne, engraved in the shape of interlocked rings. Two rings, two suns, two rhymes, two, two, two…

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_A vast sweep of possibilities tangled about and among them, all futures tracing back to this._

_._

By the time Mara spoke she was absolutely, unquestionably sure.

"You're Luke's sister."

Those dark eyes opened just a little wider and Mara sensed the buzz of shock from the woman sitting opposite her.

Organa remained silent for long seconds, a thousand denials and refutes clearly crossing her mind, and in the end, Mara decided to save her the trouble. "I've seen the holo of your mother that Luke keeps on his desk—you look a lot alike…and anyway, I can read you in the Force. Luke taught me."

"You're Force-sensitive!"

"And so are you. But you knew that already, didn't you?" Mara shook her head, remembering all her little moments of dismissed insight. "I should have known…"

Leia shook her head. "No. I didn't."

Mara glanced quickly to her, and Leia leaned forward to rest her head in her hand, looking to Mara through her spread fingers, amused and chagrined, as if still playing the idea around herself. "I found out through a blood test…Luke didn't even know. I have no idea why they kept us from one another, kept us apart."

"Wait, he didn't know? When did you tell him?"

"When…when I went to speak with him onboard the _Wasp_. I went to ask questions and he knew less than I did."

"So…why did he help you—before that, why did he trust you?"

"Why did I trust him?" Leia shook her head. "I didn't want to—I really didn't want to trust him. It went against every logical reason. I risked everything…I still am."

"So did Luke." Mara glanced down, her heart contracting—because he could yet lose. And then what would she do?

She remembered long ago, laying hidden with him in the silent anonymity of the night, skin to skin. Remembered his words, quiet and leaden, laced with tightly bound fear.

_"Someone once told me that I could only destroy that which I loved."_ It was the nearest he'd ever come; admission, if only to deny.

She'd lifted her face to his. _"You know I…"  
"Don't say it. Don't ever say it."  
"Why?"  
"…What if I've cursed us both already?" _

They'd never once uttered it, both holding always to that pact as if it afforded some secret protection…but it hadn't. And now…

Now she was terrified that it would be one of the greatest regrets of her life.

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Luke woke to the sound of the doors cycling open, a fresh gust of cool air replacing the stale atmosphere of the cell. He braced as they came forward and manhandled him to the table again, hauling him roughly down though he never resisted.

Hands dragged forward, forced into the restraints.

Wait…stomach cramping, shoulders aching, arms trembling…

Too much tension, this position. Muscles burning, he tried to lift his hands to rub tired eyes, but they jerked to a halt almost immediately, a reminder of his vulnerability.

A shadow moved over him, and Luke opened gritty eyes to see Madine dragging a chair in to sit at the table.

"Outside." The soldiers turned without looking back and the door closed with a hiss of vacuum as the corridor beyond depressurized.

Luke turned his gaze back to Madine, who stared with shrewd amusement. "Tired? Nothing to say today, huh? Let's see if we can't get you talking."

On the table between them he placed two syringes of pale milky-white fluid. He gave Luke a few seconds to really see them and consider the implications, before he spoke out.

"So what do we start on today, Skywalker, your heir or the codes?"

Relief seeped through Luke as he let out a long, low sigh, head dropping as his shoulders sagged, the tension which had been winding ever tighter since their last session loosing slowly. Because he hadn't told Madine about Mara—couldn't have, otherwise Madine would have mentioned her by name just now; would have been taking this opportunity to rub it in Luke's face. Desperately tired, completely drained, Luke grabbed at the reprieve, a brief, slow laugh coming to the surface as he lifted his eyes to Madine.

"Care to share the joke?" Madine rumbled.

Luke shook his head. "No…no, I think I'll keep this one to myself, thanks."

"You're pretty big on keeping secrets, aren't you?"

"Maybe you're just really bad at getting them out of people," Luke said, eyes back to the syringes. Goading Madine right now was absolutely the wrong thing to do, but Luke needed to guide the questions away from Mara. "Or maybe the codes you're trying to get just _don't exist_."

"Seven groups of numbers—you said that already."

Eyes narrowing, Luke leaned back as far as his tethered hands would allow him, which wasn't far. "This isn't about the codes, is it? Not really. This is about you and me. It all comes back down to that one fact, for you—that the galaxy's not big enough for you, me, _and _your ego."

Madine reached out to the first syringe. "Are you gonna tell me what I want to know, or are we gonna keep on using you as a pin-cushion?"

Luke said nothing, just stared, and Madine shrugged, lifting the syringe to his mouth to pull the cap from the needle as he reached out to hold Luke's arm steady.

Luke tensed, trying futilely to pull his bound arm back, unable to stop himself from letting out a yell half-frustration and half agitation.

It took only seconds for the drug to rush through him, the familiar cold, numbing trail seeping in its wake to leave every limb impossibly heavy as Luke slowly stilled, head spinning as gravity distorted, tumbling into freefall.

"There you go…gliding already, huh?"

A distant voice, small and hollow to Luke's hearing.

"You know, this is co-fralodiost—frost, they call it on the streets. Takes years to get off it I'm told, and we've been using it as the base for all the special little cocktails we've been mixing up for you in the last few weeks—that and the stuff Wez Reece so kindly provided. I'm thinking maybe we'll try you without anything for half a day now, huh? See how strung-out you get."

Luke blinked slowly, forcing concentration. "Straight line…"

"What?"

"Straight line—gotta keep a straight line in… mind. Keep your mind in a straight line, from A to Z."

Madine frowned. "Don't start that stuff on me today."

"A to Z… Y… X…"

Madine's head tipped, lips narrowing in annoyance. "Alphabet today, huh? Makes a change from times tables."

"V… U… T… S…"

"So, Kalter told me the trick was to break your train of thought. Cut in; make you listen to me, not yourself."

"R… Q… P…"

Madine pulled a small object from his pocket to hold it up before Luke's blurred eyes: a compact metal handle, half the length of his finger, fine slats cut diagonally across it. Luke glanced just once, not bothering to even try focusing on it. The hand holding the object moved slightly and a short, wide, wickedly sharp blade sprung free with a metallic _snick_, its fine, tapered point catching the light.

"How's this for breaking a line of thought," Madine growled. "Next letter you say, I'm gonna carve it into the back of your hand.

Luke slowed to silence, eyes on the blade. It was short, the blade itself no more than half a finger in length, its chamfered cutting edge almost the width of the blade. It looked old and well-used but even to his ill-defined vision, it looked razor-sharp. He sighed slowly.

The blade came closer to his face, blurring to a hazy flash of metal as Madine spoke. "Think carefully now, 'cos you got a hell of a lot of alphabet left to go."

In the tense silence, Luke blinked slowly, bringing his eyes to Madine's, and the older man nodded once, lowering the knife slightly. "Okay then, let's call that a win, shall we. Now, codes…"

Still slowed by the pull of the drugs, Luke turned unsteadily away to look at the curve of the roughly plastered wall. "…N…"

Madine didn't hesitate. Taking Luke's wrist he pushed his hand flat, holding it tight whilst he carved the letter with three fast strokes, deep enough that Luke felt the blade alternately skip then drag as the tip grated against the bones in the back of his hand. His back arched as he reflexively wrenched back against the restraints, pulling in a sharp breath, the tight cords straining against his desperate pull without giving a fraction of an inch.

Piercing heat bloomed damp over the back of Luke's hand as he clamped his other over the injury which throbbed in time to his heart, the gaps between his fingers and the table beneath them already wet to the touch.

Madine watched, waiting for long seconds until Luke's fast, short breaths slowed just slightly.

"That is a _very _messy wound," he said at last, shaking his head as he lifted his eyes to Luke's, completely unmoved. "Want to go for the next letter—or do you want to talk codes?"

Luke's eyes narrowed, pain and adrenaline giving him a burst of clarity. "Go to hell."

Madine shook his head. "Wrong answer. Should've picked something shorter at the very least."

Luke yelled, trying in vain to pull free, the cord holding him immobile as Madine grabbed for his arm and brought that razor-sharp blade down.

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It was late afternoon local time when the _Falcon _landed on Essau's Ridge, the _Wilde Karrde _just a few hours behind it.

Now Leia was gathered with everyone else round the holo-table onboard the Falcon, staring at the innocuous black aluflex housing which held their only hope of keeping her brother alive.

"So that's it?" Han asked, typically unimpressed.

She could blame him on this one. The plain plasteel box was about twice the size square of the numerical input keypad on its top, with a handle to one side and three small lights, all red.

Karrde had brought his worryingly young slicer, Ghent, with him, and Leia had watched the young man stare, completely besotted by the striking, curvaceous Jade. He'd even sidled nervously up beside Mara when they'd gathered round, torn between adolescent adoration and timid fear.

Now, he felt the need to defend himself, and as Mara turned expectant eyes on him he raised his chin, indignant. "Hey, you're looking at cutting edge stuff here."

"Yeah, I don't like cutting edge," Han said tetchily. "Too many times that's another word for unreliable."

"It'll work," Ghent maintained, trying a brief grin at Mara, who had lifted the box for closer study, oblivious to her admirer.

Glancing up, Mara threw it to Leia, who caught it as Ghent reached out nervously. "Hey, careful with that thing!"

Mara turned to him, and the slicer tried another thin grin. "Not you."

"So, how do we know when it's mimicking the code?" Leia asked. Her knowledge of the _Wasp's _layout and the specific whereabouts of the control room she'd glimpsed on her visit had meant that she'd volunteered to go after the emitter box. Han and Mara would be heading up along the _Wasp's _starboard loop-corridor to come to the cell by another route, whilst Karrde and his group headed from the front back.

Ghent leaned forward. "Press and hold this button, then…see these pinlights? They'll flash as it's trying to sample, like it is now. Keep it pressed until all three lights turn steady green—that's when it's got the sample. Do _not _turn the real transmitter off or take it out of range until all three go to a solid green."

Han leaned in. "So when we get the green light, we could theoretically destroy the original?"

"Oh, _big _no," the slicer said.

"Because?" Mara prompted.

"I need the original intact—I still need the intact program to slice, and find the deactivation code for the still-active slave-chip. This mimic box is just receiving and sampling the outgoing transmission, it's not copying the code itself. Also they sometimes have an anti-tamper on the original transmission box. If it's destroyed and sends out the trigger-signal at the same time as the ghost box is transmitting, I wouldn't like to put credit on whether the slave-chip will respond to the original signal or the fake. I also don't know what'll happen if the slave-chip is triggered by inputting the code into the original box whilst the fake is still transmitting—it may trigger the chip, it may not."

"Great, could you be a little vaguer?" Han drawled.

"Hey, this is cutting edge stuff," the slicer repeated, indignant, though his defense was aimed at Mara rather than Han. "Nobody can slice a slave-chip, they're notoriously hard to fake. And this is nothing—if you get him out, we've still got to break the original program to get the deactivation code."

Mara crossed her arms. "So what's the actual advantage of having this again?"

Ghent shrunk back a little. "Well, once you get the ghost box working, I guarantee you can go out of range of the original transmitter and it won't blow the slave-chip. Stay out of range of the original, and it doesn't really matter if someone triggers it or not."

Karrde straightened. "We'll make our way towards you from the front of the _Wasp_. We can take the original transmitter straight onto the _Wilde Karrde _and out of range. Ghent can start working on it immediately."

Because he was known locally, it had been decided that Karrde's part in the still-loose plan was to make an open approach to the Wasp on some excuse, to draw attention. It made perfect sense then, for his group to take the box. Still, Jade seemed less willing, though she was cutting Karrde a lot more slack now, Leia knew, her tone professionally assertive rather than antagonistic.

"No offense, but I'm not letting that original box out of my sight."

Hallin straightened. "Wait a minute, what do you mean out of _your _sight? You'll be on the _Falcon_, keeping our exit clear."

"Nathan, you were there when we drew straws; Chewbacca's staying on the _Falcon_."

Sitting opposite Leia, Chewie straightened slightly, obviously hoping this was his chance to get back into the action.

Nathan seemed to think the same. "Yes, but…surely it would make more sense for you to…"

"I'm going."

"But…" Mara straightened quickly and turned what Han had already labeled her 'redhead glare' on him, though despite standing just eye to eye with her, the medic held his ground admirably, Leia thought. Hallin frowned, glancing at Leia and Han before looking back to Mara. "I just thought you should probably, you know…stay here."

"Really? And why is that exactly?"

"Well, you know…"

"I'll tell you what, Nathan," Jade said dryly, taking her blaster from its holster and laying it on the scratched dejarik table beside the aluflex box, equidistant between the two of them. "Here's my gun. If you can take it from me, without me at the very least giving you concussion and probably broken bones, I'll stay here."

Leia glanced at Han, fascinated, as both turned back to watch.

The medic lifted one hand and for a brief, unbelievable second Leia thought he was actually going to try…then he wiggled his fingers, backing up a step. "I'll just…right."

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Day ticked round to night, and Mara had taken to pacing the _Falcon's _crowded hold so that Nathan couldn't catch her i private to try yet another attempt at dissuading her from going onto the _Wasp_.

Running out of time—they were running out of time. They had ten hours now and nowhere to go. So close, and nowhere to go.

The navigation charts to the Tholatin System had been pulled up on the holo-table to project the three-D image above it, whilst everyone gathered round to stare as if something would just pop out of the holo at them. It was a mid-sized system and though only Tholatin itself was inhabited, and that only at Essau's Ridge, it was still packed with five planets and nine moons. Eight of those mineral-rich moons were presently being mined, meaning a constant flurry of ships and comm signals traveled in and out of them, to complicate things further.

So they sat, waiting for word from Karrde, who was chasing up contacts in the Ridge, and Solo and the Wookiee had been out and back twice already, looking for leads.

But the Wasp wasn't in the Ridge. Mara knew that absolutely now, knew it in every fiber of her being—it wasn't on Tholatin. She couldn't read Luke's familiar presence anywhere here. And yes, he'd be hidden by ysalamiri, but still, one thought kept gnawing at her: that maybe he was dead already…maybe that was why she couldn't sense him.

So she paced the hold as everyone else sat around the holo, knowing that they could make it to one moon, maybe two if they chose those closer in, and trying to narrow the options down by logic. Mara glanced again at the holo, hardly hearing the voices of the others as they argued possibilities, desperate for something, _anything _to give them a direction…

And she paused, staring at the system anew, its nine moons and five planets rotating real-time in the complex 3-D representation, the noise and the arguments and the debates fell away, and a single tone sounded from somewhere within her, raising the hairs at the back of her neck.

Leia turned, an involuntary shudder taking her in that same moment… and gradually, in one's and two's, those around the holo fell to slow attention as Mara walked to the holo-map as if pulled by a tether.

There—it was right there!

All her attention was centered on a dead, rust-colored moon in the holo, its atmosphere long gone, the dust of its pockmarked surface blush red. When she tried to speak, her voice was a hoarse whisper. "That moon—what's its name?"

Han frowned. "That's Lua Vermilla; nine hours flight."

Lua Vermilla…Bocce…it meant 'Red Moon.'

Red moon. The vision she'd had the very first time she'd seen Luke call the Force to him, long before he'd served Palpatine, flashed crystal-clear in her mind—

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_The howl of the prowling wolf. Twin suns, an ashen moon seared blood red, everything changing, loyalties challenged, allegiance resolved… _

_A blood red moon…_

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Red moon. Was the answer there even then, events already set in motion like the cogs of a lock falling home? Had the Force long since given her answers to questions she hadn't yet known to ask?

Red moon. Realization tingled up her spine and resonated absolute, undeniable knowledge in every single fiber of her being.

"That's where they are," she said, knowing it utterly. "Right there."

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Luke came to already tethered to the table, back and shoulders aching, the pain knifing across them when he tried to lift his head. The table was still crusted with the dried remnants of the blood from his still-scabbing arm and hand, the fabric of the scuffed and filthy flightsuit marked by seeping scarlet stains where it stuck to the wounds.

Madine was sitting opposite him, leaning back in the chair slightly, fresh and awake, wearing a combat jacket and a crisp, clean shirt, so Luke guessed it was already another day.

Slowly, stiffly, he straightened to sitting, wondering if he'd been left tethered overnight…

Madine leaned back, the chair creaking slightly. "Good morning."

_Morning…_

"Thirteen."

"What?"

"Thirteen; day thirteen."

Madine smiled. "Unlucky for some."

Luke let out a small, breathless laugh. He felt numb and disjointed, disconnected from reality, but lucid; no drugs yet—or not too many to deal with. It was difficult to distinguish any more.

"I thought we'd talk about your heir today."

Luke looked down too quickly, making the room lurch about him. "I don't have one."

"You've already told me you do."

The chipped and stained surface of the table began to crawl and distort in Luke's vision. He shook his head just slightly. "No, I didn't."

Madine grinned, voice mocking. "You think not?

"I didn't tell you anything." Luke was aware of sagging slowly forward, already exhausted, tensing every so often against stomach cramps. Too long without the drugs—or too long with them, it was hard to tell.

"I didn't need specifics. It was enough to know it was true, and that was written all over your face. After that it wasn't hard to work out; I just looked to Coruscant and the woman you put in power. You wouldn't put anyone else before the mother of your child—you know she'll hold the Empire for it until it comes of age." Madine loosed a snide smile, leaning back again in the chair. "Vested interest."

Luke remained silent, the first tingle of panic beginning to kick in.

"I hope you said goodbye to her before you left. If not, I have a team heading over to Coruscant right now… I'll ask them to pass on your…regrets."

Luke was on his feet before he realized it, launching forward. The tether stopped him dead as he yanked against it, ignoring the pain that sliced up his arms, "Call them back! Withdraw them!"

Madine laughed into Luke's struggle. "Look at that. First time I've seen some kind of real human emotion in you, you know that?"

He glanced up, and two sets of strong arms came in from behind Luke, pushing him back down against his struggle. Still fired with anger, Luke half-turned to lash out with the heel of his bare foot now that they were close enough, catching the nearest man a hard, sideways blow across his kneecap and having the satisfaction of hearing the crunch as his leg gave way awkwardly...but in the end it was the same. He was weak and exhausted and tethered, and with heavy blows and brute power, they forced him back down.

Madine waited, watching until Luke was subdued. Then he smiled again, eyes narrowing. "All this time, we shouldn't have been talking about one or the other—we should have been talking about both. I'll make you a deal, Skywalker; give me the codes and I'll call them off."

Still gasping, Luke looked up, torn. Memories of Mara's face, of her smile, of her voice—a thousand moments tumbled in his thoughts, made intense by the drugs that tore through his system on the back of this rush of adrenaline. Her words, her strength, her absolute faith: "_I trust you."_

"I can't—I _can't _give you the codes."

"Too bad." Madine stood and turned away.

"Wait!"

Madine paused, looking to him. "The codes."

"I can't!"

"Then she dies—and the baby with her."

He couldn't lose Mara, he couldn't… But he couldn't give up the fleet and seal the fate of hundreds of thousands of beings on both sides of the divide. Couldn't consign the galaxy to another war on the scale of the Clone Wars, couldn't give Madine that kind of power.

"Don't—don't ask me this."

"I just did. All I want now is your answer."

Luke dropped forward, helpless, the weight that pressed down on him so great that he could barely breathe, let alone speak. His head fell forward into his hands on the table, lost.

"You son of a Sith...you're not gonna tell me, are you?" Madine's voice was half-amused, half-disgusted.

"I _can't _tell you." Luke shook his head without lifting it, face hidden, knowing any appeal was futile but unable to do otherwise. "Don't—_please _don't do this. Anything—I'll do anything you ask...just don't do this."

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Standing halfway between Skywalker and the open door of the cell, Madine stared for long seconds, watching a man broken and desperate but unable to comply. He felt a slow grin take him, knowing that Skywalker had no abilities here; no way to know a lie if it was told…and the temptation was just too much.

Walking to the side of the table he leaned close to Skywalker, voice no more than a whisper. "We already did it. She's already dead."

Head still in his hands, Skywalker stilled to silence, not even a breath escaping him.

Madine smiled. "She really shouldn't have kept walking among the crowds like that. But you know, she wanted to do it so much…rally the people to her cause. She was wearing your ring, you'll be happy to know. The one I pulled from your hand."

Still no reaction, Skywalker ominously still.

"Dressed all in white. Quite fittingly symbolic really—another innocent to the slaughter because of you...two, in truth. You can't get much more innocent than an unborn child, can you?"

Skywalker launched up to strike out as the chair clattered away behind him, letting out a yell of desolate, uncontained fury, his rage such that he actually dragged the heavy table forward by the binders at his wrists.

Madine took a fast step back beyond his reach, watching with the barest of self-satisfied grins as the two soldiers behind Skywalker stepped in to restrain him, forced to kick at the back of his knees to drive him to the ground. He pushed up again immediately, raw aggression giving him the power to drag the weighted, cumbersome table forward again until the soldiers took him down, one of them landing a kidney-punch this time that truly dropped him, leaving him doubled over, gasping and breathless.

"One more," Madine said, emotionless.

Tinel sent a heavy blow to Skywalker's head from above and to the side with all the power of his arm and shoulder behind it, and Madine watched his body sag further, head rolling, shoulders slackening. When he was sure Skywalker couldn't rise, he walked calmly around the side of the table to crouch beside the gasping, semi-conscious man.

"For Mon," he whispered. "Now we're even."

For long seconds he remained close enough for Skywalker to lunge at him, hoping he would. But all fight was gone—and not because of the beating, Madine knew.

He stood, using his booted foot to push Skywalker off-balance and watching as he collapsed sideways at the full stretch of his tether, then turned and left the cell, satisfied.

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Less than an hour; they were less than an hour from Lua Vermilla, and Mara was pacing through the _Falcon's _main hold in search of tools, her saber in her hand. Her heart contracted at the memory, still fresh enough to sting, of Luke giving it to her in that gracious, understated way of his. _"I thought you deserved something with a little more elegance."_

She paused, realization of what she'd just seen from the corner of her eye turning her about. Solo sat at the holo-table, a blaster disassembled on its surface, the components scattered about as he tinkered with the main relay.

"Please tell me that isn't _your _blaster?"

"It might be…" he said, wary.

"Solo, we're less than an hour from reversion. Why did you pick now to start messing around with that thing?"

"I have to tinker when I'm nervous."

She paced back towards him, sitting down on the curved acceleration couch and beginning to sort through the parts on the holo-table. "There's the same broken sub-particle scrambler under your seat right now, that was there when the _Falcon _was first brought to Coruscant. You couldn't have pulled that out?"

"Hey," Han said, bruised. "I can reassemble this blaster in about six minutes—in the dark."

"Fine, do it now. I'll time you." She handed the disassembled stock to him meaningfully.

Han took the stock, nodding toward the saber she still held in her other hand. "Something wrong?"

Mara glanced down. "Oh, the latch on my belt's a little loose. I was…" She broke off, realizing what he was saying.

"I guess we both tinker when we're nervous, huh?" Solo smiled.

"You'll notice my lightsaber is in one piece. Unlike my nerves, with you around."

She looked meaningfully down at the table again and with a sigh, Han leaned forward and took the blaster's main power pack, attaching the feeds. "What've you got that thing for, anyway?"

Did she tell him? Luke trusted him, and in truth, Mara was starting to feel the same, but still… "It's for Luke—when we find him."

Han looked down, frowning as he loaded the recoil bolt. "Y'know, he may not…I don't think he'll be in any shape to…"

"I know that." Mara heard her own foot tap staccato against the deck plates. She put the saber down quickly, as if it were hot.

"Worried?" Solo's voice was deceptively casual.

"Hardly," she dismissed unconvincingly.

"I'm worried. Worried that we're gonna come out of lightspeed into some dark speck at the far side of nowhere and have wasted nine hours getting there."

Out of habit, Han licked his thumb and touched it over the points connecting the live feed of the power pack to check it, jerking back at the small shock he received.

Mara frowned at this, but picked up the dismantled barrel from the dejarik table and slid the compensator back in place, twisting it to lock it home. "You think there'll be nothing there?"

The thought had occurred to her too, numerous times—that she was resting everything on some vague memory of a distant vision…

Han shrugged, latching the body to the blaster butt with a reassuring _clack_. "I'm just saying we should be prepared for it, that's all."

"I'm prepared for his not being there. I just don't know if I'm prepared for…"

She broke off and Solo sighed deeply. "We shouldn't get dragged into trying to second-guess what they have or haven't done to him."

Mara shrugged this away, not wishing to be made to think about it again. She'd spent enough sleepless nights and fraught days combining her imagination and what knowledge Imperial Intel had of Madine and his legendary temper. And even allowing for the ysalamiri, since Madine had managed to keep Luke where he wanted him, she figured he must indeed be using the drug…which meant that Luke would probably have realized the truth by now…

She fell to silence, relinquishing the barrel of the blaster as Solo took hold of it to slide it into place, latching the heavy side-sight into position and attaching the power line.

He held up the blaster, squinting down the now-active sight. "There, see? It took what…minutes."

Mara dragged her thoughts back to the present, arching her eyebrows at him. "Did you actually do anything to it?"

"Sure I did. The contacts get a bit of build-up on 'em after a while. I gave 'em all a clean."

Mara glanced to the empty table. "With what?"

"Best cleaner known to man—spit and the edge of my shirt."

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"What have you got?" Leia Organa asked from her position in the gunnery chair of the _Falcon's _cockpit, as Mara stood to get a better view of the dusty red moon.

"Three Destroyers within hours, and an Interdictor a little further away," Nathan replied from the cockpit comm, glancing once to Mara. "Another six Destroyers nineteen hours later—though if we get the Emperor, obviously every ship in the fleet will come."

It wasn't bad, she knew. She'd already told Nathan privately that whatever happened, he wasn't to leave Luke's side if—_once_—they got him. He was carrying a tracker, the frequency of which had already been passed on to Admiral Joss. In truth, she trusted Solo and Leia Organa to see this through—Karrde even—but there were about to be a lot of Rebel and Imperial ships—and therefore a lot of jumpy military-types with ideas of their own—in close proximity very soon. Since Luke needed immediate surgery to get the slave chip out and the two small Rebel ships were already here, that would be where they headed initially, but knowing they had an Interdictor closing in would be…reassuring.

Solo glanced back to her as they made high orbit around Lua Vermilla, heading for the only known settlement, a selenium mining colony whose location had been provided by Karrde, now flying off their bow in loose formation. "Interdictor would be pretty useful in case we spook them."

"We can't risk waiting—that would put us well into the fourteenth day. We'll go in with Rebel troops," Mara said firmly. The _Sol _and the _Zephyr _were an hour behind now, and at this point, with only two hours to midnight and the start of the fourteenth day, when Madine had publicly promised the execution of the Emperor, if Rebel troops were the only ones Mara had, then they were what she'd go in with.

Madine wasn't about to drag Luke up on the stroke of midnight, she knew that, but still, Mara was fighting against the increasing urge to act.

The three units of Rebel soldiers onboard the _Sol _and _Zephyr _would put them on roughly equal footing with Madine's men, and their arrival in an hour would put the planned strike close to midnight, a good time for this kind of hit-and-extract, when people were at low ebb. It might buy you maybe ten minutes with a professional Special Ops team…but she'd take that advantage if she could get it.

Right now, they needed to lock down the exact location of the _Wasp_, and Karrde's contacts had said there were, not surprisingly, bulk haulage transports on the mining colony's pads. They needed to do a slow pass and work out the logistics of the terrain and the strike, to be ready to move the moment back-up arrived.

When the _Falcon _cruised over Lua Vermilla's only mining colony at high altitude just minutes later, Mara was braced for the fact that there may be no Class Six freighter among the transports …what she wasn't prepared for was four of them, among another five battered freighters, all on pads around the main building.

Solo cursed roundly in Corellian. "Well what the hell do we do now?"

"Did you get readings?" Nathan asked, standing to get a better view as they passed. "Any have a high power signature?"

The Wookiee keened a reply which Solo translated, eyes still on the receding pads as the _Falcon _tipped to keep them in view as long as possible. "All active, all running similar power."

Mara leaned forward to the _Falcon's _comm. "Karrde, you recognize any of those freighters as regulars?"

"No, none."

Solo turned to her. "Don't you recognize it?"

"Hey, it was a gray Class Six bulk freighter with a few mismatched panels—after ten years of use, they all look the same."

"Lifesign readings on them all?" Leia prompted without turning from the viewscreen.

The Wookiee growled another positive.

"Wait, the _Wasp's _sublight engines!" Nathan prompted. "Weren't they partially dismantled when you saw it at Kwenn Station?"

Solo turned back, he and the Wookiee leaning forward. "They've all got sublights…next idea?"

He didn't say the one thing they were all thinking, Mara knew—that maybe it was none of them.

The Wookiee let out another low keen as Solo sat, trying to remain optimistic. "Yeah, I guess if you had an assembled set onboard ready, you could float 'em out in open space and install them in three or four days, if you had a coupla' dozen men to spare."

Mara frowned, eyes on the freighters…a dozen men to spare—which he did. Plus the space to store them in one of the bulk freighter's holds.

_A dozen men…_

"Wait a minute…" She rose to stare as Solo banked the _Falcon _in another wide arc, keeping the freighters in view without getting too close. "The last freighter, the furthest out…how many lifesigns?"

Han translated Chewie's grumbling growl. "Maybe forty, spread out."

Mara shook her head…because she didn't get one. Not one. In fact she wasn't getting any reading in the Force at all from the last freighter. It was a complete blank, like a flaw in her senses, a bubble in her perceptions. "There—that's it! That's the _Wasp_!"

Solo frowned. "How the hell do you work _that _out?"

Leia turned, hopeful. "You sure?"

Mara nodded, keeping her voice firm to convey her certainty. "That's it."

Leia turned to Han, who stared at her, disbelieving. "Seriously—we're doing this just on numbers?"

Her answer was to lean in to the comm. "Karrde? We've got it pinned as the last Class Six on the pad—the furthest out."

"We'll do a low pass on her port side," Karrde replied. "See if we can give you the lie of the land."

"Don't get too close—and don't get caught scanning it. We don't want to start this party 'till the back-up arrives." Solo kept the more recognizable _Falcon _back, staying high as the cockpit sensors received reams of information passed on from the _Wilde Karrde_: shields, visible gun emplacements, power and heat-spots within the _Wasp_.

Mara's eyes moved from the reams of valuable data to the _Wasp_ far below...something... She stared...

Leia leaned past her, studying the distant landing pad. "Can we set down on the far side of the mining complex? We have troops an hour away, we could take the complex first."

Mara barely heard the words, eyes locked on the freighter. Something... She remembered sitting cross-legged, Luke spending the fifth night in a row teaching her to _listen_, to be willing to be led by the Force sometimes, a hard thing for her to do. Remembered his words as he tried to lead her on, _"Sometimes it's so subtle...like seeing a star by not looking directly at it." _

"Too many chances for Madine to be alerted." Solo's voice, a distant distraction. "We're better setting down just over the bluff and walking it with rebreathers. We've got reasonable gravity, just no atmosphere."

Something…on the tip of her tongue, like a thought that wouldn't come. _"...like seeing a star by not looking directly at it."_ She closed her eyes, closed out the physical, the tangible, the props she'd always turned to and depended on... _Something..._

The feeling rippled up her spine, setting the hairs of her arms and neck on end in a cold tremor as she turned, seized by a fear so intense it constricted her throat and reduced her voice to a broken whisper. "Something's wrong."

Leia turned instantly. "What?"

Mara was already backing out of the cockpit at speed, Leia Organa close on her tail as Han craned back from the pilot's seat. "Something's very wrong. We need to go now—right now!"

"Now?" Leia asked, as they came to a halt at the end of the small corridor to the main hold. "We can have a full task-force here in one hour. Specialist troops with specialist equipment."

"We can't wait—we go in now." Mara was shaking her head, driven by some force stronger than the logic in Organa's words, knowing absolutely. She lowered her voice, her words for Leia alone. "Tell me you don't _know _that…actually stop and just listen. I know that you can feel it at the pit of your stomach, that it's whispering right now at the edge of your thoughts. I know you can sense it…that you can touch the Force. Listen to what it's telling you."

Leia hesitated. "How can you trust it so much?"

Mara understood her completely. Even aware of its presence as a background noise, all through her life she'd associated the Force so completely with her old master, Palpatine. Now, with Palpatine gone, Luke was the benchmark she looked to and associated with the Force…and so the answer was obvious.

"How can you not?" she said simply.

Leia frowned, eyes skipping the _Falcon's _bay as she tried for the very first time to actually listen to that voice, given permission in some strange way by Mara's own unwavering faith...

So close to her, Mara sensed the movement of her thoughts as she tried to grasp at this common bond. As she experienced that moment of vertigo, of narrowing options and widening risks… _Lua Vermilla…red moon…blood red moon…blood red…blood…_

A surge of nausea, a moment in freefall, as Mara's own throat constricted again in empathy with Leia's comprehension. Leia gasped, reeling about to stagger a step back down the short corridor to the cockpit as she shouted to Han, eyes wide. "We have to go in!"

"Wait a minute, what happened to planning a—"

Reaching him, Leia grabbed his shoulder, voice rising in fear. "Han, just do it!"

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Luke lay on his side in the cell, tired and breathless, shivering constantly, stomach cramping. But this was it—he had nothing to lose. He'd held off so long because he knew the odds were against him, but now…now odds didn't matter. He knew damn well that his odds of escaping were practically zero, and even that small margin of chance would be nullified if Madine triggered the chip he was pretty sure was nestling against his skull.

But now it was different…because now he didn't care if he got off the ship. All he wanted was a chance at getting to Madine, and he wouldn't get that from the inside of a cell. For that, he was willing to risk everything—in fact right now, for that, he'd willingly throw it all away.

He didn't care what it cost, didn't care what else happened; because of Madine, he had nothing to lose…nothing.

He waited as long as he could after they fed him. That always seemed to be late evening, and he wanted it to be well into the night before he moved, so the guards would be at their most tired. Though in truth really he had no idea; his thoughts had been hazy too long, and his sense of time had been one of the first things to go. That and his sense of balance—which could turn out very bad. But it all came down to this: he had nothing to lose, and he'd rather be shot on the spur of the moment whilst trying to escape, than feed Madine's carefully timeframed plans. Trade everything for just one chance...that one chance at the man who'd taken everything from him in a few whispered words…

_"We already did it. She's already dead. Another innocent to the slaughter because of you...two, in truth."_

He'd spent the time with his back to the lens, using one of the plasteel shards to start a rip close to the edge of the rough blanket he had, slowly gathering it to him as he pulled the narrow ribbon of cloth free from top to bottom, giving him a long, thin strip. Then he did it again, exactly as before.

Still lying as if in sleep, he took the splintered shards he'd managed to salvage when he'd shattered the vocorder's housing and knotted them at regular intervals into the strips, struggling against shaking hands. Wider than the strips of cloth, the solid pieces stuck this way and that from their binding. He bundled them up, plagued by doubts…not about this; he knew this would work. If he could throw the cloth strip close to the closing door as the vacuum kicked up, the vacuum itself would do the work for him; it would drag the loose end of the cloth with unerring accuracy through the gap, no matter how narrow it was—until one of the shards got stuck in the closing gap, disrupting the seal just slightly.

Vacuum was a searching thing; it needed only the tiniest ingress to fail…leaving his cell open to the power of that vacuum from the double-wall beyond. And the longer that seal was held open even slightly, the more it would decompress his cell, reducing it to near-vacuum…and the more that vacuum equalized, the less the pressure on the door, and the easier it would be to pull the shard free, leaving his cell in vacuum even if the short corridor beyond was repressurized. So when somebody opened the cell door into that vacuum…

Rapid decompression. He'd seen it a few times, when airlocks failed on old ships. Had gone through the training for rapid decompression when still flying with the Rogues…actually gone through it for real once, when damage had blown the canopy of his X-Wing in space…wearing a full pressure suit and with his oxygen mask strapped hastily in place.

He wouldn't have that this time. This time would be very different.

Which was why his heart was hammering against his ribs when he reached out to run his trembling hand along the underside of the heavy bunk frame. He pulled the scrambler free from its hiding place and sighed, dragging his thoughts into line and listening to the click in his breathing caused by the strength of his own irregular, pounding heart.

Groggy, dizzy, unable to hold on to a thought for more than a few minutes, he knew it had to be now or never.

Fumbling the scrambler into his mouth, Luke bit down and activated it.

On cue, the two night-guards arrived to hit the surveillance lens, thinking they were correcting the same fault, as usual. As usual, Luke sat up on the edge of the bunk to stare at them in silence, the heavy chain about his ankle chinking as it dagged against the movement. As usual, he bit down and deactivated the scrambler, watching them as they walked from the room…

As the door closed Luke bit down again on the scrambler in his mouth, reactivating it instantly, holding it in his mouth as he worked.

With surveillance out again and the door on its automated closing cycle, Luke dragged the plasteel-studded strip free and threw it, keeping hold of one end. It unfurled like a living thing, the soft tip reaching to the nearly closed door… In an instant the vacuum took it, dragging it into the closing gap.

The third plasteel fragment caught with a tortured crunch, interrupting the seal by the smallest degree. Triumphant, Luke launched himself forward toward the door, knowing that his continuing incremental movement of the heavy-framed bunk every time he'd deactivated the surveillance would enable him to reach it with the chain about his ankle at full stretch.

The compromised seal was already marked by the sharp hiss of air as the vacuum outside, designed to vacate only the gap between the inner and outer walls of the cell, began to exert its influence through the failed door seal and into the cell itself.

Crouching at the door, already beginning to feel the change in barometric pressure as the vacuum worked to purge the air from the small cell, Luke prayed breathlessly that he was right about it being insufficient, and so unable to crush the door completely closed before it had purged the cell of air. Worried at the rate at which it was clearing the cell, he began breathing in short, fast breaths. This was deep-space-piloting one-oh-one; you could survive longer than you thought in a vacuum, but you needed to close down the body's natural breathing cycle by lowering its carbon dioxide levels—you needed to hyperventilate.

Already dizzy, Luke dropped down, face close to the barely open door, hearing the final locking cycle of the outer door as the gearing system for the inner door to his cell tried without success to seal. Close to the failed seal, he breathed the remaining oxygen that whistled through at an alarming rate; if he was wrong and the vacuum was sufficient, this could be a very short and embarrassing escape effort. He was gambling on two things: firstly that, since they'd put conventional locks on the doors, he was pretty sure that the vacuum pump here wasn't quite to the original spec, and secondly that even in the original, the decompression rate wouldn't have been lethal for the simple reason that the cell had originally been designed to decompress rapidly enough to_ knock him out_. The original designer had wanted him alive.

Dragging in his last few breaths and feeling the increasing pull against his lungs, it occurred to Luke to wonder belatedly whether this escape attempt was a legitimate, reasonable theory based on vacuum mechanics and two weeks of close observation, or a patently ridiculous notion based on the strung-out delusions of endless drug cocktails and two weeks of sleep deprivation. It also occurred that it was a little too late to be thinking that.

He grinned at the thought, cracking the fresh scabs on his face, ridiculously amused; delirious—he was getting giddy. Lightheaded, he took his last few breaths as those final whispers of air trailing away, and with them the noise of the door's still-straining auto-close mechanism. Flight instructors taught that you had roughly fifteen seconds of useful consciousness in vacuum, maybe the same of semi-aware disorientation. He had to exhale slowly to avoid massive damage as the vacuum expanded the oxygen in his lungs, but he couldn't empty his lungs completely. Deep-space piloting; he had to remember that, to the point of passing out—don't exhale completely and _don't _inhale, no matter what. Forget that and you die.

Bracing his feet against the wall, still exhaling slowly to relieve the pressure on his lungs as the oxygen within expanded, Luke kept tension on the strip of cloth, waiting to feel it loosen as vacuum equalized the pressure on the door. The fresh scabs on his arm began seeping blood again as it was pulled to the surface under negative pressure; near vacuum now.

_Breathe out slowly. Don't take a breath._

They must be panicking now; they'd surely realized outside that something was going on with the vacuum…did they actually have a way to monitor it? Should've thought of that sooner…

Feeling the pull on the strip of blanket ease, Luke wrapped the cloth strip about his body to gain enough force to pull it clear and yanked with all his remaining strength, pushing off from the wall with his legs. The door's auto-mechanism clanged shut as he pulled the obstruction free and fell onto his back, the world already hazing to a muzzy blur.

_Breathe out slowly…_

Time dragged, the inability to breathe leaving Luke feeling like he was drowning on dry land, though he knew if he took a breath now, it would probably kill him on recompression…

His hands and feet numbed as his body went into barotrauma, cutting off oxygen to unnecessary extremities.

_Breathe out…_

Noise, muted and thin, weak vibrations in the near-vacuum as the corridor beyond the cell door now recompressed, the cell itself contained in its decompressed state by the sealed inner door, no air within. Numb, inky shadows seeped in from the corners of Luke's vision, panic rising as the pull on his lungs grew ever greater, more difficult to hold against.  
_  
This is okay, you knew this would happen. Don't breathe in…_

Weak sounds, muffled by the closed inner door and the near-airless vacuum of the cell. Shouting, the shuffle of feet in the recompressed corridor as the guards reached the inner door, waiting for the powered inner lock to release without knowing that the cell was now a vacuum.

_Don't breathe in…_

Hands bluing already, numb. Awareness fading; were they still there?

_Don't breathe…one second longer,_

A memory triggered, a dream long ago of falling, of drowning in deep water. His lungs were burning now, the pull against them incredible, consciousness failing—

_One second longer—_

Open the damn door!

_Just one second longer…_

His lungs were depleted, the barest breath held to protect them from recompression, his chest locked against the incredible need to breathe, the pressure phenomenal, blurred vision fading to nothing…

The indistinct light to the side of the door flickered from red to green as the lock released—

The door was wrenched inwards by the force of the vacuum within the cell, its upper hinge breaking free as it rebounded violently against the wall, the intense inrush of air into the vacuum dragging both guards from their feet to throw them bodily across the cell as Luke's last vestiges of consciousness were ripped away by the force of the rapid recompression…

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Pounding heart…mottled light, dim and dizzy… Luke dragged in a huge gulp of air, voicing wordless sounds, gasping, struggling—

Up; _get up!_

He rolled as he rose, trying clumsily to get his feet under him, ears ringing a single tone as he pushed with tear-blurred eyes towards the crumpled huddle that was his guards, heaped against the wall nearby, very still.

_Get up!_

He crawled a pace, trying to push upright. The world skewed drunkenly about him and dropped him to his hands and knees again with a yell of frustration.

"_Up!" _he yelled it aloud, forcing himself forwards, staggering upright and to the side as if the floor were tilting.

His first grab at the blaster on the floor near the unconscious guards missed completely and he dropped again to one knee, muscles trembling, dark scarlet drops splashing to the floor from his nosebleed. This time he got it, numb, unsteady hand struggling to hold it so that he had to take its weight in both hands and rest the muzzle against the chain that still held him pinned to the heavy bunk, which had also been dragged the length of the cell in the rapid recompression, a scarlet line cut deep around his ankle where the binder must have cut in as it yanked him back, unconscious. He fired two shots into the chain to shatter it, free for the first time in two weeks.

Lurching up he staggered to the door, shaking his head to clear it, hand out to the doorframe as he almost fell forward, struggling to stay upright.

Then he was through, out of that damn cell! Still giddy, he let out a wild laugh; he'd done it! He'd said he'd walk out of there and he had!

He glanced about, vision clearing. He was in the main bay, maybe four times the size of the outer wall of the cell. Exits; needed an exit before this place started filling up. The implosion would have been silent, but there were surely alarms sounding somewhere. Clutching the blaster, Luke set forward at a loping run, keeping to the edge of the bay, his course erratic as he leaned on the wall for support every other step.

He glanced about him, no idea which way to go, knowing only that he had to be away from here; seconds, he probably had seconds now before they came…

Then he was into a corridor, adrenaline pumping, needing the support of the wall only every five or six staggered steps, the blaster loose in his hand. He couldn't hear an alarm, but then he could hear little beyond a single tone, the recompression probably bursting his eardrums. He brought his hand to one, then looked; no bleeding. He didn't bother to check his nose, the taste of the blood still strong down the back of his throat, making him swallow every few seconds.

End of the corridor. Choosing a direction at random, he glanced down the new corridor and saw a security lens at roof-level. Hauling the heavy blaster up he shot it out, needing six shots to hit it even with his weight resting against the wall behind him.

It occurred to him to wonder where his scrambler was; he must have dropped it in the blast. That meant he needed to use the blaster to take out surveillance, as well as any ysalamiri he saw.

Intentions seeped slowly back into his consciousness; he needed a loop corridor, so that if he took out any ysalamiri and lenses he came across as he went, then eventually he'd come back to the same point he'd started, with Madine and his soldiers still in tow…but without any ysalamiri.

He stumbled on, unsteady on his feet, knowing he was running on adrenalin and knowing it wouldn't last. But that was all he wanted, now—that one chance at Madine…that one chance.

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	45. Chapter 45

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**CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE**

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His breathing ragged, his path weaving as he used the wall for support every few steps, Luke was aware that he was already losing what little adrenaline had sustained him this far, losing the battle to stay upright, to stay conscious…and all the while he was waiting for the slave chip to trigger.

Didn't matter—it didn't matter any more. He needed to take out as many ysalamiri as possible and disguise that fact beneath general chaos and darkened corridors with shot-out lights, then cross the ship and double back on himself from a loop corridor so that he'd be in a Force-infused area by the time they caught up with him—and he needed Madine to be there when they did, so having them know roughly where he was because the ship-wide security lenses were going down wasn't a problem. It didn't matter how many soldiers Madine had with him then, men who were willing to kill on command, who had made Luke's life hell and watched him slowly crumble.

Beneath the single tone that still sounded in his muted hearing, Luke began to hear muffled shouts; soldiers, closing in…

Gunfire…was that gunfire? Who was shooting—why? He staggered on away from the noise, turning a corner and taking out the next lens, needing seven shots this time, breathless and unsteady, unable to keep the blaster level. Didn't matter. Just get to Madine...for Mara. Just that; they could trigger the chip when he'd had Mara's revenge.

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Running down the port corridor, Leia flinched as the shipwide alert blared out, then recoiled again as Nathan, just behind her and holding the ghost box, clearly jumped so much he triggered the blaster he was holding in his other hand, shooting a hole in the scuffed floor.

She turned, but Nathan was way ahead of her. "I think it'd probably be better if maybe I run _ahead _of you," he said diplomatically.

Leia pulled out her comlink, pressing for the channel they were all using as she picked up her pace again. "Han, did you trigger the alarm?"

The earbud crackled to life in Leia's ear. "No, we thought it was you."

Mara had supplied the earbuds from what Han had already come to call her 'bag of tricks,' though she'd been right in pointing out that they'd enable everyone to monitor the open channel with their comlinks silent, thus not giving away their positions in a stealth operation…which seemed a bit academic now, Leia reflected.

Karrde's voice cut in, typically droll. "I'm confused—weren't we supposed to be doing this quietly?"

"Yeah," Han replied, "change of plan...apparently."

The next second Leia heard blaster fire over the open link as Han shouted out. She and Nathan came to a halt, watching each other, eyes wide.

The earbud registered the scuffle of boots and fabric then more shots…the high-pitched whine of ricochets; jarring backfeed as the comlink hit something.

"Han...Han!"

"We're fine…"

Leia breathed again at the sound of Han's voice. "We're good here—all good. Brief disruption, s'okay now."

Nathan leaned in. "Is Mara okay?"

"Yeah, aside from being annoyed—at you that is, not the guys who were shooting at her, for some reason…wait..." He paused, and the comlink went to distant talk between the two of them, then, "Really? … Seriously? Okay, we need to spread out. Karrde, stay forward of the main hold and keep moving. We'll start heading back from here."

Leia scowled. "Wait, Luke's cell is in the main hold."

"I'm sure it is, sweetheart, but we just picked up a comlink that one of Madine's lackeys won't be needing any more, and word on their frequency is that Luke's out already."

_The alarm_, Leia realized.

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Luke backed quickly up the side corridor, hand snaking about the mouth of the soldier he'd dragged back with him as he fired three fast shots into his back. The man slumped down and Luke grabbed him by the scruff to pull him back further, heaving him into a side room…just in time. Another group of six soldiers ran down the main loop corridor ten paces away as Luke remained crouched in the dark room, not even risking standing to close the door.

They passed, and he remained still, huddled down on the floor for long seconds, trying to get his breath back. He needed to get moving. He couldn't afford to stay in one place, it was too easy to get hemmed in. He frisked the body and briefly considered taking the guard's clothes to buy him a second of anonymity, but in the end settled for the stiletto knife the soldier had in a sheath at his hip…

Luke remained still, head down, chest rising in labored breaths. _Up, get up._

Too hard—he was running on empty, completely drained. The immense urge to just lay on the floor where he was in the shadows of the room was overwhelming, involuntary reflex dragging him down to repair a failing body, his muscles loosening, succumbing physically even as he fought it mentally.  
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Get up… _

It was the shipwide alarm which finally brought him to his feet as he glanced about, cursing as he staggered forward a step to hold onto the doorframe. He stepped out into the side corridor…and stopped dead as another five guards ran down the main loop corridor just paces away, backstepping at speed to press himself against the wall, what little he could hear of their passing drowned out between the decompression damage and the claxon's droning tone.

They ran on as a close group, not even bothering to check the darkened doorways of the side corridor, attention ahead as Luke held to the shadows.

He breathed again as they passed, lightheaded, waiting long seconds before he pushed himself off to check both ways down the dark, empty side corridor.

_Keep moving; get back onto the loop corridor and double back, heading aft…_

Hand to the wall for support, Luke shouldered his blaster and turned into the main loop corridor…and stumbled instantly into a soldier, running to catch up to his companions. The soldier's blaster lifted, swinging round for a body shot as Luke looked into his face… It was Tam. Tam, taking a breath in, pulling his blaster round…

Luke was close enough to reach out and bat the blaster muzzle aside. "Don't! Don't shout…"

But Tam's eyes were ahead on his companions, his lungs full—

Trained endlessly in close-quarters combat by Mara, Luke reached a hand out to wrap about the back of Tam's neck and yank him in, burying his face quickly into the joining of Luke's shoulder and neck to muffle the cry, the knife in Luke's hand coming unerringly up to embed just below Tam's ribs, pushing high into his chest cavity with deadly force, the rasping drag of the blade offering little resistance against the power of the blow. Tam's body stiffened as he made a pitiful yelp, blaster clattering to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Luke whispered, still holding the dying man's face to him to muffle his shocked cry as they slipped slowly to the ground together, Tam's limbs falling loose as a last rattling gasp escaping him. "I'm so sorry."

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Mara and Han were running at full-tilt through the _Wasp_, Han carrying his blaster whilst Mara had her rifle shouldered and an Imperial standard-issue E-11 cradled in her grip, safety off, her lightsaber bumping at her hip as she ran.

The trouble was, they had no specific place to run. They _should _have been heading for Luke's cell located in the main hold to the center of the sizeable cargo freighter, but their first run-in with Madine's troops—already armed and on alert because Luke was out—had proved that pointless.

So now they were just running, equally pointless to Mara's mind, unless you counted avoiding the six or eight Special Ops troopers who were on their tail after the amount of noise they'd made bringing down that first surprise group. But until they could get a fix on Luke, there was nothing else they could do.

They seemed to move in and out of the ysalamiri's influence a few times, so that Mara could sense the Force in brief, disconcerting waves, like coming up from water and being doused beneath it again as her senses flared and faded in quick succession, each one a brief shock to the system, like a blow to the gut. Thus far, she'd kept her abilities to herself, and if Solo was wondering why she slowed a few stumbled steps every now and again, he at least knew that now wasn't the time for questions.

In the brief time she'd been training with Luke, she'd constantly pressed him to coach her further with the lightsaber he'd built for her, and he'd always refused. She could already use a lightsaber, he'd told her—she should train her mind first, then they'd go back to the saber. Instead he'd spent hours simply teaching her to open her mind to the Force in any situation, learning to trust and listen to her background awareness of its presence, even under stress. At the time, she'd thought it a waste; now, she blessed its value. Running full-tilt down the corridor, attention split, eyes on every door and corner and wary for traps, she could still sense its intermittent influence…but she couldn't yet sense Luke.

It hadn't helped that the groups of soldiers they'd run into always had at least one ysalamiri with them, but on the plus side, if Mara knew that a bubble would mean soldiers…

She let out a gasp, stopping so suddenly that Solo nearly barreled into her from behind, barely aware of the curse he uttered in Corellian. Turning quickly about, she stumbled into him as he backstepped, indignant.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"The bubbles!" Mara said into Solo's obvious confusion.

"Bubbles?"

"Rifts—rifts in the Force caused by the ysalamiri—we need to follow them."

"Wait a minute, that's _towards _the soldiers," Han said doubtfully.

"Yes! And where are the soldiers _with ysalamiri_ going?"

A slow smile spread across Solo's face. "Towards Luke—they'll take the ysalamiri towards Luke."

As long as she could detect the massed bubbles, as long as she stayed close to the main concentration, chances were, they were running towards Luke. "The gaps are at the front of the ship and the ysalamiri bubbles are towards the rear."

"How the hell do…" Han's narrowed eyes returned to the lightsaber Mara wore at her belt. "Now wait just one minute, Red…"

But Mara was already running. "You coming or not?"

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Han stared after her a second, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath, "Great—there's three of 'em in the whole damn galaxy and I know 'em all personally."

He set off at a fast pace, running to catch up.

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Leia came up slowly on the closed door she remembered as the observation room when she'd last been taken through the _Wasp_. Backing off to the far side of the corridor to get a clear line of sight, she nodded for Hallin to press the door release.

Already wary from the alarm, the two soldiers within turned immediately, reaching for holstered firearms.

Leia dropped the first man instantly, though their alertness meant that the second had drawn his blaster and picked off two fast shots before she brought him down. Her eyes went immediately to Hallin, who had doubled over, crying out as the shots fired.

"Nathan, are you okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine." He was shaking his hand as if to regain feeling, studying it closely, though Leia could see no mark. "It must have glanced off the edge of the doorframe or something—I thought it had clipped me, that's all."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Leia had to smile. "Believe me, if you get even a glancing blow from a blaster, you'll know about it."

He grinned, reaching out to retrieve his blaster and the ghost box, both dropped in the shock of the moment. "Well this is my first front-line experience. I mean, I'm not entirely new to the whole action thing—I have known Luke for six years now," he added, as if it were explanation enough in itself—which actually, to Leia, it was. "But I tend to be the one who listens to what happened afterwards rather than, you know, be _in _it."

"No, really?" Leia helped him up, glancing both ways down the corridor, eager to get out of sight and trying hard to keep the wry amusement from her voice. "I'd never have guessed."

Bundled into the room, Nathan stopped dead almost immediately, eyes locked on the two bodies, so that Leia had to step round him to get in. She glanced about the empty room and at three two-D viewscreens, one showing a view of Luke's empty cell, two others the bay in which it sat, the cell doors wide open. It looked like Han was right; in the cell, the heavy bunk and table Leia remembered from her brief visit were on their sides against the far wall, the cell in obvious disarray.

Leia turned away, eyes scanning the observation room…and to the far end, hard-wired into the console itself, stood the small, square emitter-box, a keypad set into its upper surface above a single light, glowing steady green.

Right where it should be—how often did that happen? She smiled, walking quickly toward it, "Nathan, give me the ghost box… Nathan?"

The medic glanced up quickly from the two dead guards as if suddenly realizing Leia was speaking to him. Taking a wide arc around the bodies, his eyes remaining on them until he reached the console, Nathan finally pulled himself together as he placed the box on the surface, close to the original. "Okay, red light…"

As Nathan pressed the switch and they both watched the red light, Leia realized she had no idea how long it would take for the ghost box to sample the signal from the original. Was it seconds or minutes? She glanced to the door then back to the box—

"Wait," Nathan said quietly, "shouldn't it have three lights lit?"

Leia felt the breath leave her in a gasp. "Why is there only one?"

"The blaster shot," Nathan's voice rose in panic. "I told you I felt a shock!"

"It hit the box?"

"I don't know."

Leia abandoned her blaster to pick the box up, turning it over to look for damage, frantic. Nothing was visible. Putting it beside the original emitter, she pressed the button again at the same time as she lifted her comlink, heart in her throat. "Karrde? Karrde, come in."

The hushed hiss as the door slid unexpectedly open turned them both about. Leia scrabbled for her blaster as Nathan brought his to bear…

His shot went wide—Leia had no idea whether it was by mistake or on purpose—exploding into the doorframe beside the soldier and making him flinch away.

"Stop!" Nathan shouted, his yell somewhere between demand and outright panic.

The big, heavy-set soldier froze, his hand lifting away from the sidearm he'd been reaching for.

Leia had her blaster by now, as she stepped clear of Nathan. "In—close the door and lock it, then move back against the wall."

The big man backed up slowly in silence, sharp eyes flicking between Leia and Nathan, face calm and collected; a professional soldier sizing up the threat.

"Nathan, take his gun."

Nathan stepped forward and reached for the sidearm at full-stretch, forcing Leia to step deftly to the side when the medic accidentally put his own body between herself and her blaster. Keeping the gun trained, Leia silently cursed the medic for not taking the shot when he had it, because she couldn't bring herself to do it now, when the man was unarmed. Which left them in a small room with what was clearly a very capable soldier. His shrewd gaze moved from Leia to the viewscreen of the empty cell, then to the ghost box on the console, taking everything in.

Realization of Karrde's voice in her ear divided Leia's attention. "Watch him," she said as Nathan backed up, placing the seized blaster on the console behind her. "If he moves, shoot him—and make sure it's _him_, this time."

Leia fumbled along the console without risking looking away until her hand hit her comlink. Thumbing the speaker, she spoke. "Karrde? We have a problem. The ghost box took a glancing hit—there's no visible damage but two of the status lights are out. Something's shorted."

Karrde's voice was reassuringly unflustered. "Hold on, I'll patch you through to Ghent."

"Han," Leia tried. "Do you have a position on Luke?"

"Nobody has a position on Luke." Han sounded as frustrated as she felt right now. "We think they're talking about him being near the main loop corridor, but they've designated areas and corridors by numbers, so they could be talkin' about anywhere."

A single pip indicated another speaker and Leia changed the channel.

"Um…hi?" Ghent's voice bought Leia's undivided attention.

"Ghent! The box took a shot and we can't sample the original emitter's frequency. There's only one light and it's red."

"One? Which one?"

Leia glanced to the box. "First one."

"Okay, well, you have power, that's all… Turn the box upside-down. You see the inset slide-switch?"

"Yes."

"That's power—turn it off and restart it."

"That's it," Leia almost yelled. "Restart it? That's the best you have?"

Karrde's voice cut in across the open channel, taking charge. "I'm already dropping back to pick up Ghent—we'll be on our way to you within minutes."

"Hurry, we need to get this thing working."

"Sooner than you think." The soldier's low voice turned Leia around, and he tilted his head, his hands still held up. "If he crosses the _Wasp's _boundaries, he's dead. That's—"

Leia leveled her blaster. "Shut up!"

The big soldier jerked just slightly, clearly having already marked Leia as the greater threat.  
Nathan's attention was on the box, which he'd deactivated then reset. "Still one light—something's fried. It must have taken the hit."

Leia half-turned, her own voice tightening. "You take the chip out surgically, then."

"I can't do that, not without the code to deactivate it first. It'll trigger."

"We have to do something!"

"Well, as long as we're in here, no one else can get to the box to trigger it," Nathan reassured.  
"And if Luke's already out and running, he could step out of the ninety meter radius at any time! We need the code now!"

"Four three nine, zero zero six three two." The soldier's voice was quiet and composed.

Leia turned. "What?"

"The deactivation code—it's four three nine, zero zero six three two."

Nathan turned immediately to the emitter.

Wait!" Leia said, hand out. "It could be the code to blow the chip."

"No," the big soldier said simply. "I left my post and came here to disable the slave-chip."

Leia shook her head. "Why should we trust you?"

"You're running out of time," the soldier said coolly. "The chip has a ninety meter radius, you know that. I can tell you for a fact that ninety meters is the center-line of the fore and aft docking bays, 'cos I'm the one who measured it out. If Skywalker crosses either bay, he's dead."

"So we just blindly put in any code you give us?"

"Wait." Nathan took a half-step forward, eyes on the soldier whose bulk dwarfed him. "..._Skywalker?"_

The man pursed narrow lips as he nodded. "I know who he is—was. Still is, maybe, underneath it all. Y'know, I joined Madine's Special Ops because I figured I'd got a pretty good idea of where the galaxy should be heading... Thing is, the more I've seen in the last two weeks, the less I think Madine's the one who'll get it there…and…Force help me, the more I think maybe Skywalker is. That's why I came to deactivate the slave-chip."

Leia wavered, aware of all that this man had done on the strength of his loyalty to Madine, of the leap of faith he was making here—if he was telling the truth.

Could she do the same—take that leap of faith? At the end of the day, they were both Rebel soldiers, and they were both fighting for the same thing...

She turned to Nathan, heart in her mouth. "Put the code in."

He didn't need telling twice. Still, Leia held her breath as he did so…

The original emitter's steady green light blinked three times…then turned to red.

"You can turn it off now," the soldier said levelly. "Myself, I'd put a shot through it, just to make sure."

Nathan turned, face still pale. "Thank you...?"

"Kalter," the soldier said, straightening. "My name's Nilo Kalter. I'm the unit medic."

.

.

.

Madine was passing orders by comlink as he walked purposely forward, blaster rifle shouldered, the distant sound of a firefight rolling down the corridors. "How many intruders?"

Whoever they were, they'd split up into small groups to come in at several different points, forcing Madine to split his own forces to deal with them, when he should have everyone committed to tracking Skywalker down right now.

"Which corridors are down?" Madine asked of the ever-increasing gap in surveillance. "Start shutting down bulkhead doors from sixteen aft and don't release them until you have all-clears from the forward units. Keep the skirmishes separate—don't let intruders close up or get behind our position. And track down Tinel and Kalter—I want to know what the hell's going on!"

He had the option to detonate the slave-chip, of course, but he didn't want to do that unless he had to. It'd be a waste when he'd gone to all this trouble to advertise a firing squad and set the stage so perfectly. Still, if Skywalker did cross the slave-chip's boundary limits…

"Do we still have surveillance in the fore and aft bays? Enhance the image quality and set them to record. If we have to, we'll use that." He didn't particularly want to have to put out the image of the Emperor getting halfway across one of the bays then being brought down when the chip in his head blew—he had something a little more theatrical in mind—a little more official. But he'd use that, if it was all he had.

If he could just corral Skywalker into that rear bay, where everything was already prepared… All he had to do was keep the son of a Sith heading aft. "Ops, close the aft bay doors but don't lock them. If they open without my telling you it's us, let whoever's trying in there through, then lock 'em down."

This could work quite well. The more agitated Skywalker was when he got there the better. Make more of a spectacle if the Emperor was shouting and railing when they stood him up against the wall and turned their blaster sights and the HoloNet lenses on him.

Madine glanced to the soldiers moving in neat formation down the corridor ahead of him, slowly herding Skywalker toward that aft bay…six men, plus himself. Seven men was enough for a firing squad, right? Yes, this could work perfectly.

.

.

.

In the surveillance room, Leia was grinning, laughing, dizzy almost, the relief was so great. "Han—Han, do you read me?"

"Yeah."

"Luke's—the chip's deactivated, the original box is disabled, it can't trigger."

"Yes!" Leia heard the yell from Mara, who must have heard the news in her own earpiece, the first time she remembered ever hearing her in high spirits—and she had to smile, because it was so clearly the exact same outburst of feeling that Leia felt every time Han made it back to land his A-Wing on the hangar-bay floor after a combat sortie. Just who did Jade think she was fooling with her whole _bodyguard _routine?

Han's voice came back on, his own grin obvious. "You got the ghost box working?"

"No, we…we had a little help here. Lieutenant Kalter gave us the code."

Han paused just slightly. "One of Madine's men? Cos if it is, ask him about the damn corridor codes."

Nathan turned to the soldier, who was standing like a sentinel at the back of the room. "You know the codes, don't you—the corridor numbers?"

Kalter lifted his chin but remained silent, and Leia stepped forward, fierce and desperate. "You said yourself that you'd come up here to deactivate the slave-chip, that you believe Luke—well then help him. You're a member of the Rebel Alliance—we don't just stand by, we _fight _for what we believe in!"

Kalter turned those shrewd eyes to Leia, studying her closely, his voice quiet and steady. "Tell me this: you know who he really is, don't you, Ma'am? All of it."

Leia hesitated...

It was Nathan who spoke. "Yes, yes we do."

The man nodded slowly. "And Madine...he knows the truth too, doesn't he? He always did."

Leia nodded. "Yes, he always did."

The burly soldier shook his head slowly, lips pursing as he let out a brief, dry laugh. Leia watched him tensely as he stared at the monitor of Luke's empty cell, considering…

Then those wide shoulders loosened slightly, as if finally at ease with the hard decision he'd made, and Kalter stepped forward, keying the console to bring up new images to the other two screens.

"We can patch into Madine's comms from here. Skyw…the Emperor's close to the main loop corridor, we think. He's been shooting out the security lenses in a large area just aft of the central bay since he got out. Madine's trying to close off the ship in sections, and bring all the ysalamiri back to his position."

Leia was already leaning in, studying the blueprint Kalter was pointing to. "What about Karrde—our people at the front of the _Wasp_?"

"They're keeping two units busy. One unit's already engaged your second group—"

"Mara and Han," Nathan supplied, glancing to Leia.

Kalter nodded. "Well, another unit's moving in on their position. Troops are out in units of six. There're two units still on Skywalker's tail."

"We need to get Han and Mara past those three units to Luke," Leia said. "Do you have a location on him?"

Kalter paused, listening to the comm chatter. "Not specifically. We can guess, 'cos of the surveillance lenses, but he's doubled back a few times already, and he's using surveillance-free side corridors a lot."

"Wait," Nathan said. "You said they were closing down parts of the freighter. Do you have any access to the doors they're opening and closing from here?"

Kalter's eyes went to the console, pulling up new screens. "Some, not all. Emergency bulkheads mostly, starboard side."

"Which side do we think Luke is on?" Leia asked breathlessly.

Kalter nodded. "Starboard."

"Can we keep the troops off his back and keep him heading aft?"

Kalter was already working on the keyboard, the _Wasp's _blueprint now highlighting a smattering of doors marked red or green along its starboard length. "Maybe…if he stays on the main loop corridor."

Leia was already lifting her comlink. "Han, you need to head aft as quickly as you can. Be aware, you have three units in your way—stay on the outer port side corridors and you'll go round them, then come in on the aft bay from there."

"We're on our way," Han assured, his voice hitching as he ran.

"We're going to try to herd Luke towards you and to that aft bay, which is away from Madine's troops. He's on the other side of the ship to you, we think, but we have access to some of the bulkhead doors. We'll try to guide him in and keep the troops off his back."

"You know where Madine is?" Han asked.

Leia glanced to Kalter, who pursed his lips, eyes on the blueprint as he listened to the stream of information from the console. "He's with Unit Two—that's the closest unit, coming in straight through the blind-spot Skywalker made in surveillance. Skywalker doesn't seem too eager to get anywhere, he's just…sticking to the same area, crisscrossing the ship."

Leia frowned, studying the images. "Why would he do that?"

"I dunno, but he's got six men coming up the main loop corridor and six more just off it, coming in from port-side. They close that net whilst he's in one of the linking cross-corridors and he's trapped between them."

"Can we close any doors, shut them off?"

"We can close off the cross-corridors, seal out the unit coming in from port-side."

"And Madine's group?"

The big soldier pursed his lips, shaking his head. He didn't need to speak.

.

.

.

Luke turned the corner into an outside corridor, the narrow, misted transparisteel viewpanes giving broken, hazy views of a red dust landscape below; absolute night with no flicker of diffraction—no atmosphere then. No trying for an airlock and drawing Madine out.

Turning back in to head down a side corridor towards the area he knew he'd already cleared of ysalamiri, Luke took aim and fired into another of the ceiling-height ysalamiri globes…and faltered, his legs crumpling beneath him in shock as a mass of long-dulled senses flared into being, his hands going to his temples at the overload of information coursing through him even though it was an isolated sliver of contact—the space between voids, a crack in the blanketing influence of the ysalamiri.

He must be on the edge of the space he'd already cleared. Until now the ysalamiri were sufficiently overlapped that even shooting them down, Luke had never been outside of their influence—now, he'd finally doubled back onto the very edge of the area he'd emptied, separated by a single wall from the corridors he'd already cleared.

Even here, in this locked-in pocket of insight, he sensed soldiers close by, just within his perceptions. Conscious minds came into razor-sharp clarity as he focused, old habits coming instantly to the fore; a mass of thoughts, feelings and intentions. Resolute, unyielding, tense—

Then just as suddenly they were gone, and Luke knelt huddled and blind in a void, cold realization knifing up his spine; because he hadn't moved. He hadn't moved into the bubble, the bubble had moved over him—which meant they knew where he was…and they were bringing ysalamiri with them. And they were _very _close.

He needed to back up further into the area he'd already emptied, find a larger clear spot where he'd have access to the Force to hold his ground. The next cross-corridor was long enough and it should be clear—if he waited in the middle, the soldiers carrying ysalamiri would be visible to either end before Luke was within their influence. He'd have a clear shot to take them out.

Forcing himself up, Luke staggered round the curve to the longer cross-corridor he knew he'd already cleared of ysalamiri… _Quickly; one chance…_

He rounded the curve…to see the blast door to the cross-corridor come slamming down.

"No!" Luke brought his blaster up, putting four fast shots into the door panel…and only one fired. He glanced down; the blaster was empty.

It was empty, and he was facing a locked door to the corridor he _knew _he'd cleared! He leaned on the door, looking through the small viewport to the safety that was just feet away and now completely unreachable. He would have had them—he would have been in the ysalamiri-cleared area and had them!

Chest heaving, taking his weight on the wall to keep himself upright, he tried to see the mechanism behind the access panel that his first shot had blasted free, but they were too close; he couldn't waste time trying, and he knew it. He had to move on—find another way to double back. A few shots sounded, and Luke frowned, deranged mind struggling to work out what they could be shooting, then he pushed himself off again. Another way; keep heading aft and try to find another way back to the area he'd cleared.

He set off at a slow stagger, one arm to the wall, abandoning the empty blaster to fall to the floor unheeded.

.

.

.

"Back, back, back!" Mara was backpedaling wildly as Han opened up with his blaster, picking off one of the six soldiers they'd run into in the winding corridors, all reduced to darkness in this stretch, random shots seeming to have been fired into walls and floors already, debris everywhere.

A volley of shots splashed off the far wall as he backed round a corner and out of the line of fire, a flare of blinding light in the darkness as he flinched back, trying not to look.

"You know, you don't have to keep repeating it," he half-yelled to be heard over the noise of the gunfire in the enclosed space. "Once would have done it. In fact, the guys shooting at us pretty much did the trick."

"Well, you didn't seem to be moving very quickly," Jade said dryly as the gunfire intensified.

"We got round the corner in one piece, didn't we?"

Jade leaned back against the wall a moment, her attitude one of concentration. "No ysalamiri here."

"What?"

"No ysalamiri."

"Well that's great," Han deadpanned. "I gotta say, from my point of view, their absence is more than made up for by the angry guys with the blaster rifles."

Jade's head was tipped forward, eyes closed. "I can't sense Luke."

"Could you maybe do this _after _we've dealt with the guys with the blasters?"

Leia's voice came over his earpiece. "Han?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to get to the aft bay and cut across it to get starboard, where Luke is. We've locked down the cross-corridors to keep Madine's men back, but they've just locked the console we were using out of the system. We have no control over the doors and no access to surveillance any more. We're out of the loop, you're on your own."

"You okay?"

"We're fine, but we're bugging out of here. We'll head aft to your location."

"Okay, we're close to the bay."

"Han, there's still one unit of soldiers right on Luke's tail—Madine and six others, all armed."

"We'll get to him, don't worry."

.

.

.

Luke leaned against the doorframe of the aft bay as it opened, chest heaving. Pushing himself off, he made it five or six steps into the main bay before the doors he'd just come through closed down, the panel beside them flashing red as it locked. Luke glanced quickly to the doors at the far side of the wide bay, but even if they'd been open he wouldn't have been able to run for them, and already they were slamming down, their status light flicking from green to red, locking him in. They'd trapped him in here…with ysalamiri. No Force here.

Glancing about the brightly lit bay he was another step forward before he realized what he was looking at.

To one side of the wide hangar, the wall and floor had been painted white, large arc-lights stood on tall mounts and connected to portable generators, facing the whitewashed wall.

Stood at regular intervals, pointing towards the makeshift setting, were three tripod-mounted lenses.

For long seconds Luke stared, knowing what this was…then he blinked, turning away and pushing the image from his thoughts with a quick shake of his head—

And the bay door behind him cycled to green and opened.

They came in without pause, in practiced configuration: Madine and six soldiers, blasters raised. Backing up, Luke stepped towards the center of the bay as they widened into a loose semi-circle and moved to one side, clearly trying to herd him towards that whitewashed wall.

Gritting his jaw, Luke stopped and held his ground; if they wanted him in front of that wall then they'd have to drag his carcass there.

Madine took a step forward and for a scarlet second Luke seriously considered running for him…but he wouldn't make it; wouldn't get close. He sighed, but tired as he was, he straightened before them, knowing this was as far as he got.

This was it, end of the line.

"Stop!"

Madine froze, hands splayed out as Luke backed up another two steps, and he broke pace, uncertain.

"Listen to me, don't step back. You step past the red line on the floor and you're dead, understand?"

Luke glanced down—and just as it had been in his cell, there was a rough red line painted across the landing-bay floor.

"You step beyond that and you're dead. You have a slave-chip up against your skull and that's the limit of its boundary. Go past the line and it triggers." Madine took another step, hand out in some twisted travesty of concern. "Just come forward towards me."

Luke glanced to the side, to the whitewashed wall prepared for an execution. "And to that? I don't think so."

"That's a _possibility_. You cross that red line and it's fact—you're dead."

"You've gone to an awful lot of trouble for a _possibility_." Luke took a staggered half-step back, more out of exhaustion than choice, his heel to the line.

"It was a threat, nothing more. I wouldn't have done it."

"Please."

"You know I wouldn't. I still want those codes."

"So what you're actually saying is, 'Step forward and I'll take you back to your cell'?"

"Skywalker…"

"No. No, this game's over." He had nothing left to fight for any more, no reason to care—but he'd be damned if he'd die on Madine's terms.

Heel to the line, Luke let out a slow breath…and stepped back.

Standing stock still, chest heaving, every muscle adrenaline-wired for the blazing flare of death that didn't come, Luke stared at Madine…

And stared.

He took another step back…then another, eyes still fixed on Madine's face—on the shock and the confusion which twisted it unchecked, a mirror of Luke's own turmoil.

.

.

.

Mara fell against the controls for the aft bay, knowing already that they were locked, the status light glowing red.

"Come on!" She slapped uselessly at the locked-out controls, fear and fury rising.

They'd come back into ysalamiri-blanked corridors not soon after they'd cleared the last soldiers from their tails, the corridors here unmarred, but Mara's brief excitement at seeing the bay door was quickly crushed.

Solo came up beside her, breathing heavily. "Locked?"

"Locked down and locked out. We're not getting in from here." Mara glanced up, remembering the upper bay, but knowing it would take too long to backtrack to a point where they could get up a level and to an entry that would probably be locked down anyway. The memory of her own escape last time burned in her mind. "_I'm not leaving you here."_

She remembered climbing the narrow access ladder to the overhead hatch between the two bays, losing sight of Luke in the tangle of criss-crossed tracks and gantries at ceiling-level… Gantries!

The jumble of track systems at ceiling height came abruptly to mind, tracks for the bay's automated cargo crane. And where there was an automated system, there was an access hatch for repairs. Mara backstepped, scanning the corridor at roof level as she set down the corridor at a jog.

"What?" Han was staring at her.

"Access—look for the access hatch for an automated cargo crane."

"Right!" He set off in the other direction, eyes flicking between the ceiling level and the corridors ahead, watching for more soldiers. "Here—I got it!"

Mara came running back, following Han's gaze to an inset hatch almost at ceiling level. "Give me a boost."

Han was still glancing about. "There should be a…here." He pushed against an inset panel and a series of slits pulled back in the wall paneling, creating a basic ladder.

Mara glanced to him, and he winked. "Not my first stock freighter—or my first rescue."

She was already up the ladder, pressing for the latch release. "It's locked."

"Move back, I'll shoot it out."

"No, if Madine's in there with Luke …"

He pursed his lips. "Fine, get out of the way, I'll hotwire it."

Mara looked, dubious. "You can hotwire it?"

"I can hotwire anything, sweetheart—if it's got wires, I can strip 'em and rip 'em."

.

.

.

Mind numb, still reeling from the simple fact that he was still alive, Luke tried to drag some kind of composure from the shock, thoughts coming back from the edge, racing on adrenaline.

He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead, and all that meant was that he'd die in a few minutes time on someone else's terms, not his own.

The braced soldiers straightened as Madine pulled his lip back in fury—

All that was left to Luke was a bluff… He forced himself straight, feigned his voice steel, wondering if they would hear the tremor beneath it. "Look at that—didn't work. Did you think it would—did you seriously think I'd back over the line if I didn't have access to the Force?"

Madine glanced up to the distant ceiling of the hangar, and Luke knew instantly what he was looking to—ysalamiri. The cage must be high in the ceiling space, well out of Luke's reach.

A gun…he needed a gun—but the only seven in this bay were pointing at him right now. The only _seven_…

"Get your hands up," Madine growled, blaster leveled.

Luke tilted his head in open threat, pushing the bluff. "Don't. Don't make me attack, because if you do I'll kill you all, understand? No holding back—it doesn't work that way. You know what I'm capable of, and believe me you have nothing that can stop me. If I let it loose, if I give it the power it needs, I don't control it. It controls me. The first man who pulls his trigger seals all your fates. He kills you all."

The soldiers moved and braced, betraying their unease.

"He's lying," Madine said. "He can't do anything…look at him. You've seen your Sith Emperor bleed—now you'll see him die."

"Don't be a fool, Madine. It's over—just walk away."

"I will...when this is done. You sure as hell won't."

.

.

.

Balancing on the narrow inset rungs of the high ladder, Han worked feverishly, baring wires and twisting them back, sparks flaring occasionally as he crossed-wired.

"Would you get out of the way!" Mara rasped from below, impatient.

"Listen, doll, I was hotwiring these things before you were walking."

"Yeah, well obviously they've gotten a bit more sophisticated since then," Mara retorted—just as the small hatch finally slid back.

She was up the ladder in seconds, already edging out onto the maze of crossing gantry crane tracks bolted to the bay ceiling when, with a brief jolt of recognition, she heard voices below. Mara slid into a crouch, taking Han down by his wrist as he crawled onto the gantry.

Far below was a grim standoff; Luke, his hand out in warning to seven soldiers, all armed, all their blasters pointing at him.

She glanced up and about. "No Force," she whispered urgently to Solo. "No contact anywhere here."

He leaned out, his own voice no more than a hoarse whisper. "Madine's with them—that's not good."

Madine! Mara inched forward, balancing the length of her body along the high tracks to look down as she pulled her rifle from her back. She edged further out, lying flat on her stomach and lining him up in the crosshairs…then reluctantly pulling away to briefly skim the rifle's sight across the other men far below. "They're not wearing ysalamiri frames…they're somewhere around here though."

Using the rifle sight as binoculars, Mara panned across the bay at ceiling level, searching the endless projections along the roof, the distant corners, the upper walls, the outcrops and complex support struts for the crane tracks, and all the time something was niggling at the back of her thoughts, something that wouldn't cut through her suppressed panic.

Solo grabbed her ankle and yanked her nearly off-balance, and Mara was about to turn on him when he shushed her, freezing. Far below, Madine glanced up, looking not to the shadows where they were hidden but to the center of the wide ceiling…before looking back down again, his words lost over the distance though his dismissive tone remained.

"We'll never take 'em all down if they start shooting," Solo whispered. "If you take one shot with that rifle it'll set 'em all off."

"Sniper rifle," Mara murmured distantly, eyes roving the massive space. "Remember?"

"Yeah, it doesn't matter how silent it is, they still fall over and die. That's always somethin' of a giveaway. As soon as the first guy goes down, the other six start shootin'—and they got just one target."

_Seven_… Mara frowned, frustrated, struggling to lock down that feeling, to remember the significance…

Seven men…

It hit her like a broadside, like a physical blow: seven men; Luke's vision—the one that had thrown him so completely in the dead of a Coruscant night, months earlier.

Seven men he'd said; a vision of seven men at his back with rifles aimed… He'd seen his own future—his own…

.

.

.

"This is private revenge, Madine." Breathless, struggling to remain upright, Luke leveled the accusation for everyone to hear. "This is you wanting to hurt someone because they hurt you—and everyone here knows it."

Stung by the accusation, Madine turned just slightly. "Lift your damned blasters! That's an order!"

"Is this your Alliance?" Luke glanced to the assembled soldiers. "Is this really what you're fighting for? Is this your _justice_—to torture, to condemn without trial…to shoot an unarmed man?"

"This _is _justice," Madine growled.

"Your justice, your way…well let's see just what that justice really is." Luke turned deliberately round, every muscle taut, putting his back to them, eyes on the far hangar door.

"Turn back," Madine warned.

"No. If you want to shoot me, you'll shoot me in the back…or rather, you'll try."

"Don't think I won't."

"I told you, this game is over, Madine. I'm leaving." Luke took a single step to the far hangar doors…and the sound of a firing pin locking open tripped every nerve in his body, halting him. "You do this and you kill them all, Madine. I can't misfire that many blasters and I can't pull that many hands free in time—that's not how it works. All I can do is stop the men behind them. Permanently. _You _kill them, not me. Your choice."

"Fine, go ahead, right now," Madine goaded to Luke's back. "…No? You have no power here and I know it—nothing."

_Nothing…_the memory of the vision, came back to him...

.

_Trapped within that empty bubble in which the Force simply didn't exist—and everything was still, like time itself had stopped, reality clambering at its edges, distant and obtuse.  
All that was within the still silence of the bubble was Luke…and the throne._

_"A prophesy…"_ Palpatine's words, six years ago. _"Carved into the throne is the key to a power capable of changing the course of the galaxy."_

_"Do you believe in destiny, Jedi?"  
"No… The future's undecided."  
"Some things are fluid—but some are locked in. Inescapable."  
"Nothing is inevitable."  
"Is that what you believe—or what you hope?"_

Seven… _Seven men, weapons drawn. Seven minds impenetrable in that still bubble, their very existence blanked in this Force-empty void.  
A shout, the word a burst of barbed hate, filling the void completely, the bubble shattering, Luke jerking back as the word became action;_

_"Fire!"  
That first shot coming towards him, the searing, shattering jolt…_

_._

"Turn around." Madine's voice pulled him back to the moment, and Luke stared ahead, transfixed, as memories of the vision were made real.

"Take aim," Madine yelled, incensed. "Lift your blasters and take aim!"

In one's and two's they did, the metallic _clack _of the safety's releasing reverberating around the silent hangar…

.

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High above, Mara watched Luke backstep, his eyes on Madine as he spoke.

"We've got to do something! Seven men…this is it—this is Luke's vision."

Solo frowned, shaking his head. "What?"

"He saw a vision—in the Force. Seven men, he said; seven men behind him…and then they opened fire!"

Don't let it be this… Don't let her have come this far, strived and struggled and got so very close just to watch him die!

"Three each," she murmured to Solo, sniper rifle trained. "You start in from the left, I'll take Madine, then go to his right, understand?"

"…okay."

They wouldn't do it; Solo knew that as well as she did. They wouldn't bring them all down in time.  
Desperate, her searching eyes caught the very edge of a clear bubble at ceiling level, obscured by heavy crane beams—there! The ysalamiri were there!

She didn't hesitate, didn't bother to explain, already inching along the narrow gantry, her rifle out before her. Scowling, Solo remained hunched down at the edge of the gantry where he had a clear shot of the soldiers below.

Mara was halfway along the crane track, still looking for that clear shot of the nutrient frame holding the ysalamiri, when Madine let out a yell, lifting his blaster to Luke. She swung her range rifle quickly round, pulling a bearing on him, hunching down to the sight.

Others in the loose semicircle about Luke were also lifting their blasters towards him. Mara froze, finger resting on the trigger as she held her breath, _knowing _she couldn't take them all down.

Madine's gun arm lifted higher as he spoke and Mara's finger twitched against the trigger, the urge to take the shot almost overwhelming. The man who was responsible for the injuries which she could now so clearly see had crippled Luke, and she had him in her sights—in her sights! _One shot…_

But too many other blasters were pointed at Luke, and she knew damn well she wouldn't get them all in time. She held Madine in the crosshairs a second longer, finger resting against the trigger…

Far below, Luke turned away from the seven men, his back to them now—and Mara felt a surge of panic flood her mind; hadn't Luke said that—hadn't he said in his dream that he turned his back to the men who shot him?

Before this greater fear, the overwhelming desire to take out Madine fell to nothing as she glanced away, cursing under her breath, pushing it from her thoughts. The partially hidden ysalamiri cage; she had to go for that…but to do so she'd have to move beyond her line of sight on Luke's attackers. She'd have to leave him on his own.

It was phenomenally difficult to hunch past her line of sight of the group below, knowing that if they started firing now she wouldn't even be able to help Luke—but this was the better odds. Even with a rifle, Mara could take one man down, maybe two, before they started firing; Solo probably the same… This would give Luke the chance he needed—if she could do it in time.

Her earbud crackled into life with Solo's whisper. "Jade? What the hell shot are you takin'—can you even see 'em from that angle?"

"No, but I can see something better—I can see the ysalamiri."

"Seriously? You got seven soldiers down there with itchy trigger fingers. You waste your one chance at surprise just to take a shot at that thing and they're all gonna pull the trigger."

"It's a stealth sniper. I'll set the focus of the beam inside the transparisteel sphere. It'll take the creatures out, not the frame."

"Well then how the hell will Luke know?"

Mara nodded, steadying herself; this was what she did. It was a while since she'd been in the field, but she loosed her shoulders as she settled for the shot, forcing her breathing to a regular pace. "Oh, he'll know. And you don't have to worry about the soldiers; Luke will take them. All of them."

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Every muscle tense, Luke held still, refusing to turn. Everyone remained stock-still, caught in the standoff…

In the brittle silence he heard Madine take the breath to shout out the order, and tensed, knowing the shot would follow…

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High above, the nutrient cage which supported the three ysalamiri at the hangar's ceiling rocked almost imperceptibly—

Luke jolted, hunching over as he gasped, hands to his head—

"Fire!" As he let out the yell, Madine pulled his trigger.

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Time slowed to a lagged crawl as the Force rushed in about Luke, a deluge of perceptions, a surge of power which turned awareness inside-out, opening up about him with flawless clarity, every instinct expanding and exploding in a blaze of razor-sharp awareness, crippling in its intensity, a fraction of a second which stretched for eons, pain and lucidity tearing through him–

Behind him, infinitely slow within the stretched awareness of the Force, the soldiers braced to take the shot, minds grim with intent, crystal clear in the Force—

Instinct took over, firing old pathways long-since branded into his consciousness by Palpatine. A blinding, shattering dislocation of action from conscious choice, ripping through him like fury, tearing out, looking to ground. Absolute power, heartbeat striking like thunder against his ribs, blood singing through his ears with a pure note of caustic, chaotic adrenaline.

Centered within this immense storm of power Luke spun about to bat the laser bolt from the air, yelling out as he threw a wrenching Force-blow at Madine with enough power to break his wrists about his gun with a wet, brittle snap, the pain collapsing his legs beneath him as his blaster tumbled uselessly away—

In that same sluggish moment, before Madine had even begun to drop his blaster, fingers tightened on triggers in slow-motion. Six other muzzles aimed, the soldiers about Luke already tensed at Madine's order as Luke opened his hand, bringing it out before him in a wide arc, fingers spread. He didn't look, didn't need to; sight was a waste, a draw on his attention, the light that carried the image to his eyes too slow. Instead he closed them and gave himself to the Force as it blazed out about him, self-preservation lighting the fuse, igniting the volatile time-bomb that Palpatine had spent so long carving into his fallen Jedi—

An instant, a moment, a single, stretched heartbeat lost back in that cell beneath the Palace, only one answer to the threat—

Six bodies fragmented and atomized in a scarlet surge, its leading edge dissolving matter into a chaos of vibrant color and scattering it in an ever-expanding swell.

By the time Madine's knees had hit the hard bay floor everyone about him was dead, a misted haze of warm crimson still settling out of the air, like copper and salt in the back of his throat. Scarlet-soaked strips of shredded rags still floated down, nothing more left, as if a silent explosion had just detonated, ripping through every man there.

Except Madine.

Only Luke and Madine…staring at each other across the blood and bone-spattered bay.

Madine scrambled uselessly for his blaster as Luke's reflexes paced back to reality and his head came up, set to one side just slightly, eyes hard and remorseless as he watched his tormentor panic, thoughts not yet fully disconnected from the Sith Palpatine had created, connections not yet locked down, intentions and awareness narrowed to a single thought.

This moment—this moment, for Mara…

He stalked forward, slowing to a halt before Madine to watch him struggle uselessly trying to lift the gun.

"No, not you." Luke crouched with icy calm onto his haunches in front of Madine, arms resting on his knees. "You don't get the easy death. You get a few minutes longer. You I want to savor—you live long enough to think on this. This was on your head, not mine—this was your choice. You made that call. Everyone here died because of you. You can take that feeling to your grave."

His eyes, set deep in a bruised and bloodied face, remained flint-hard though his words spoke volumes; of bitter memories, unsettled scores and decisive retribution. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Madine yelled out in frustration, fingers on the blaster rifle but unable to lift it, frantic…and Luke watched—just watched for long moments, letting him try—then without a sound, without a gesture, the gun collapsed and compressed in a spray of sparks, instantly doused.

Luke's fingers twitched and Madine doubled over, his long cry turning into a wracked gasp as Luke watched, the barest twitch lifting the corners of his split lips, attention pinpoint-focused.

"I'm thinking about Mara—about everything that she could have been until you…"

_"Luke!"_

That voice…

Luke turned, senses expanding, opening out. A wave of joy, of pure elation, rolled over and enveloped him, heated and vibrant.

"M…" He couldn't even speak her name, daren't, for fear it would break the spell, shatter this moment of desperate hope—

She was across the gantry in seconds, sliding down the edges of the ladder and running across the bay…and Luke struggled to his feet to stare, just stare, breathless and bewildered...

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Mara ran forward, her eyes blurring, desperate to hold him, to make this real. Onslaught of feelings, her own and his, as an unchecked tangle of emotions mingled and jumbled, nothing withheld. Two minds, one certainty, mirrored and magnified—

Then she was there and he was pulling her to him, whispering her name—

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"I thought you were dead, I thought you were…" He couldn't say it, euphoria overtaking every thought. He collapsed down on his knees and she fell with him, her arms wrapped about him. He would have kept on falling had she not held him, supporting the body that fell lax in her arms—

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Mara held him, her eyes stinging with tears even as she laughed aloud, crushing against him as he pulled her in, his arms about her. He kissed her passionately, release of relief, pulled her close to laugh into her hair as she held him, alive and safe, the man she loved, the man she needed—

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Needed—he needed her. Luke knew that now; knew what darkness truly was. Needed her like oxygen, like blood, like the beat of his heart.

"I love you," he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I…" It was easy, so incredibly easy to say, the words lost in laughter, in euphoria…in pitch-perfect resonance.

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	46. Chapter 46

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**CHAPTER FORTY-SIX**

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Mara stayed with Luke as he drifted in and out of consciousness on the trip back to the _Falcon_, passing shuttles from the Rebel ships _Zephyr _and _Sol_, who had arrived to take over the fight.

Nathan had fussed around Luke as they'd laid him on the narrow medi-bunk onboard the _Falcon_, grumbling at old instruments and faulty scanners and bemoaning the lack of IV fluids, completely in his element.

Han and Leia had set off for the cockpit, he to get them airborne and she to arrange for the medical bay onboard the _Sol _to be freed up, and as Nathan finally settled down it was the Wookiee, Chewbacca, who surprised Mara by remaining behind for long moments to lean in and gently rub his leathery knuckles down the back of Luke's cheek, whuffing unknown words to him, though Luke remained unconscious.

By the time they were airborne, Mara had dragged the only moving chair across the hold to sit beside Luke. Every time he woke he would drift for a second then jolt awake, eyes wide, searching for her, and Mara would squeeze his hand, smiling and murmuring reassurances as she watched the strange sight of a smile grace his battered face when he saw her, knowing she was real, drifting again almost instantly.

It was the two glancing heavy-weapons shots to the _Falcon's _shields which pulled him back to real consciousness as Mara stood, glancing about… The next second the _Falcon _lurched awkwardly to the side, artificial gravity only just keeping pace.

Luke was already pushing himself up. "That was weapons-fire."

"Stay there," Mara said, already heading out of the hold. "I mean it! Nathan?"

"We're staying right here."

She reached the cockpit in seconds, Han and Chewie both at the helm, Leia leaning forward over the cockpit comm desk. The visible beam of another heavy-weapons laser seared across dark space before them, lighting the cockpit momentarily as everyone within flinched.

"What the hell's going on?" Mara yelled.

"Three Star Destroyers just came out of hyperspace and ordered the _Sol _and the _Zephyr _to heave-to," Leia said, half-turning. "The Captain of the Rebel ship _Sol _opened fire on your Destroyer _Tempest_, and it just returned fire. I'm trying to raise the _Sol _now."

Another wide beam flashed past the Falcon, making Mara flinch. "Why did they fire on us? Aren't we transmitting Karrde's code?"

"Yeah," Solo answered casually without turning round. "They're firing on the _Sol_, we just got in the way."

"Is the _Sol _transmitting the code?"

"It wasn't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because there were no Star Destroyers here when they arrived." Han's tone summed up his opinion of the _Sol's _reasoning.

Mara leaned back to touch Leia's shoulder. "Don't let them put the code out now. If they do, the _Tempest _will assume it's a Rebel code and fire on us too."

"I can't get through to them," Leia said. "They're not acknowledging our hail."

Another barrage came from the Tempest, rocking the distant Rebel ship.

"That was a direct hit," Han said gravely, leaning forward. "This is turning into a firefight."

"Then someone should stop it."

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Everyone turned to see Luke leaning hunched against the cockpit's doorframe, pale and drained.

Mara gave Nathan a withering look as he shrugged helplessly from behind Luke's shoulder. Luke stepped shakily to the comm console as Leia gave up the seat, letting him collapse down into it. Reaching over the controls, he flicked the switches with old familiarity.

"ISD _Tempest_, this is the freighter _Millennium Falcon _transmitting a security protocol. Our recognition code is four-nine-nine-five-three. Come in?"

Pausing for a response, Luke realized that everyone was staring and glanced about, his eyes finally resting on Han. "What?"

Han grinned inanely, glib melodrama hiding genuine pleasure. "Just, y'know…good to see you back at the controls."

Luke glanced away, uncomfortable even with this, Mara knew. To hide it, he toggled the sticky _transmit _switch several times. "I can't believe you haven't fixed this yet."

"Hey, you had her three years, junior," Han accused indulgently.

"She's not _my _ship," Luke replied in kind.

"_Millennium Falcon_, this is ISD _Tempest_. Please transmit that code again?"

Luke turned, all business. "I repeat, the security protocol is four-nine-nine-five-three. Put me through to the Captain—now."

The line cut and silence fell again. Always one to break it, it was Han who leaned back in his chair again, voice cagey. "So, uh…can I quote that recognition code too?"

Luke didn't turn. "Are you Emperor?"

"…No…but I know the code now."

The comm crackled to life again. "_Millennium Falcon_, this is Captain Murai of the Imperial Star Destroyer Tempest. I don't know where you got that code but you're ordered to stand down shields and weapons immediately, kill your engines and prepare to be boarded. Consider yourself under arrest for treason."

"Treason…" Luke leaned in, voice gaining strength and authority. "I'm not sure that's even possible."

"Wh…who am I speaking to?" The officer had lost none of his bluster.

Luke's own voice cooled by degrees. "You are speaking to the Emperor, Captain Murai, and I'm ordering you to stand down and disengage. Recognition code is Braxant-Raioballa-Atrivis-Lahara, voice sample is, 'meus vox vocis est meus key—agnosco mihi.'"

There was the briefest pause as the codes and Luke's voiceprint were verified, and this time when the Imperial Officer came back on, he couldn't have been more accommodating, voice tinged with a satisfying edge of bewildered alarm. "Excellency! I had no idea that… Sir, do you require assistance?"

"I have all the assistance I need, thank you, Captain. The _Sol _and the _Zephyr _were already in attendance when you opened fire on them."

"Sir, I had no idea! I apolo…"

"I will be boarding the Sol very shortly, Captain, and I don't expect to be under fire from my own navy at the time. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Excellency!"

Luke shut down the link, pushing himself up as he turned to Leia, his voice already losing power. "You might want to tell the _Sol _to stand down too."

Leia stared, uncertain. "You're still boarding the _Sol_? But you have three Star Destroyers here now. Their facilities are…"

"It has to be a Rebel ship." He let out a brief half-smile, exhaustion already beginning to overtake him again. "I want this to be _seen _to be a joint operation, the Alliance has to be involved, especially now."

As he spoke, Luke's hand went to the console, then he collapsed back into the co-pilot's chair, skin waxen.

Mara crouched beside him, seeing him fade. "Luke?"

"Whatever happens, I leave here on a Rebel ship, okay? I just need to…rest a..."

She smiled as his eyes fluttered closed, still fighting to the very last second.

Nathan was instantly there to check, but he was settling back to his usual self with Luke's return, and if Nathan wasn't panicking, then Mara knew Luke must be essentially okay.

As it was he glanced up. "Let's get him to your medi-bunk…and get the _Falcon _to the _Sol_, or we'll all be in trouble when he wakes up."

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Leia stood in the small medi-bay onboard the _Sol_, staring at her brother, still unconscious but stable. The gruff-voiced Mon Calamari medic had ordered everyone from the room early on, only Hallin remaining, even Leia bundled into the corridor beyond.

Leia had been dragged to the bridge almost immediately to oversee the capture of the _Wasp _when Madine's soldiers had finally rallied, and the news wasn't good, many having made it to the _Wasp's _shuttles to escape. But she was back down at the medi-bay the moment it had subsided. Now she was alone with the _Sol's _Mon Cal medic, the room quiet, Luke pale and drawn, finally hooked up to the fluids he'd needed.

"Exhaustion, dehydration, and some serious cocktails of drugs," the _Sol's _medic said soberly. "Plus he's faced some heavy physical punishment. But he's young and he's fit—nothing that won't mend."

Though he'd obviously recognized who he was treating, the medic had said nothing, rotating huge eyes to glance once to Leia, before going stoically on with his work.

"He's been sedated—give his body time to rest and repair a little—but…I'm moved to wonder what we'll be doing with him when he comes round, because I'd rather he wasn't marched down to the detention center."

"We'll be handing him back to his own people," Leia said firmly. "We don't kidnap leaders we're trying to negotiate with, we don't treat any prisoner like this, and we certainly don't organize public executions. None of this is our doing, and I won't have the Alliance connected to it."

The medic nodded as he let out a rough breath, seeming more reassured than anything else—which was good; she knew she could trust him.

"If that's the case then there's something else you should probably know about…this particular patient," the Mon Cal stated, voice neutral. "I have another list here—a separate one."

Leia frowned, uncertain what the medic was getting at but knowing from his tone that this was important. "Go on."

"I did a full-range scan." The medic turned glassy eyes down to the automemo he was holding. "This lists the injuries sustained during the last six years or so, discounting the present ones I just mentioned. All these occurred three to six years ago, though I'd estimate the majority are between four and six years old."

He held her eye for a short while before looking back down to his automemo, voice grave. "Both his clavicle—his collarbones—have been fractured at separate times, the left twice. His jaw's been dislocated twice and broken once. His right eye socket has been shattered and repaired. His left shoulder has been dislocated more than once causing deep tissue, nerve, muscle and ligament damage. He's had compound fractures to the ulna of his left arm and repeated dislocations to his left wrist. Most of the bones of his left hand have been broken- carpals, metacarpals and phalanges, some repeatedly over the several year time period, as have many of his ribs. He has damage to five vertebrae, all of which have been treated, but weeks after the fact. There are hairline cracks to the tibia and fibula of his right leg, inflicted at different times, and his left ankle has been dislocated, probably twice. The left fibula has incurred a severe compound fracture at some point—it's been pinned and the bone laminated to repair it, the damage was so severe. He's had repeated lacerations over the whole of his body with dermal, sub-dermal and deep-muscle damage; some were sutured and repaired, many simply left. Deeper scans show he also has scarring from several internal injuries, most of which are concurrent with violent trauma."

The Mon Cal paused, looking to Leia for long seconds, then turned his eyes down again. "As I said, time-point scans show that these injuries are clustered time wise—so he probably went six months with no injuries at all, then many were inflicted at once over a very short period—a few weeks perhaps, we can't be more specific than that. But they're always clustered in this way. The injuries are very easy for us to trace because most weren't dealt with at the time of injury. There's evidence that bone-knitters were used on the fractures and sutures on the worst of the wounds, but judging from the repair, I'd say it was many days, probably weeks, after the injuries actually occurred."

As he doled out this shocking liturgy, the medic reached down and lifted Luke's cover down to his waist—and Leia inhaled, appalled, eyes to his chest. She was a half-step back, hand to her mouth before she knew what she was doing, seeing the heavy scars criss-crossing flesh, some deep, some raised, all pale with age.

So many. Too many to count.

"Luke…" she whispered, dismayed. So many scars.

"They cover his whole body," the medic said grimly. "As I said, they're grouped to separate, brief time periods over several years, as far as I can tell. No particular reason—they're not medical and they follow no pattern. This is heavy scarring from severe injuries—the lesser ones will have faded long ago. I've…seen this kind of thing before, of course, though this is unusual in its extended time period." He set his head to one side, some allowance made in his voice now. "You understand what I'm saying—that I believe this was...punishment, torture perhaps."

The power of the word forced the breath from Leia's lungs. This was what haunted him—this was what she saw in the shadows of his eyes—how could it not?

She was in the corridor before she realized what she was doing, taking Jade by the arm and forcibly pulling her away around the corner. Jade twisted free, scowling.

"What the hell?"

"Luke," Leia said. "The medic just told me what happened to Luke."

"Is he all right?"

"In the past—I'm talking about in the past—four years ago, maybe six."

Mara's chin rose a fraction, mouth hardening, and Leia felt her anger rising. "You know, don't you—you know what they did."

"So now suddenly you're outraged. You, who left him there in the first place—just abandoned someone who bought your freedom with his own. You, who leads the Rebellion that tried to assassinate him. Do you want me to go on—because I've got more. How about your handing him over to Madine? You didn't seem so very outraged then."

"I want you to tell me the truth," Leia said, holding her anger in check. "I've just been given the facts, now I want to know the whole truth."

Mara glanced away, suddenly subdued. "You have no concept of what he endured to keep this much of himself."

"I'm beginning to understand," Leia said quietly.

"No, you don't," Mara said unequivocally. "Nobody does. Until you've faced Palpatine head-on, you have _no idea_ of just how punishing that can be, mentally and physically. Palpatine took him apart more than once. Took him to pieces, you understand?"

"Palpatine? I thought…I thought it was his father."

"No, Vader tried to protect Luke…in his own way, I suppose," Mara allowed.

Leia's anger cooled several notches as she considered this, for the first time finding something in the wraith that had been her father that she could actually understand. But she couldn't forgive—not yet. "Well then, he didn't try hard enough."

"I've told you," Mara said, shaking her head, "you didn't know Palpatine. You don't know the power he held, his willingness to use it. That close to him…everything, _everything _went exactly to his command. Everyone followed it to the letter, without hesitation. How do you think one person can stand against that? You all spent your lives hiding out here in the Rim Systems, running from place to place, always on the move, always underground, an endless effort to stay ahead of him and he _still _dominated your daily existence. Whether through his military or his influence in the Royal Houses or his civilian governors or his control of the banks or of free passage… Borders, taxes, you name it, he controlled it—completely.

"Now imagine standing next to him—imagine having all that power and all that authority and all that strength of will turned on you and you have nowhere you can run. There's nowhere you can hide—he'll come for you, and he'll drag you back, and I promise you he'll make you wish you'd never been born. And in the end, you'll do what he ordered you to anyway, one way or another. Vader _couldn't _protect Luke—nobody could, Luke knew that." Mara paused, as if studying her own words as she spoke them. "He did what he had to just to survive… And you of all people should be grateful that he did, because if he hadn't, you'd be long dead and your Rebellion would still be some insignificant justification for Palpatine, an excuse for him to put more and more laws into effect in the name of the public protection."

"I fought Palpatine all my life."

"And yet you still needed Luke to remove him—or do you seriously think you could have managed that otherwise. And you did your fighting with an army at your back; Luke had no one. Every single time he faced Palpatine, every time he argued or questioned or challenged, he did it alone. I couldn't help him…nobody could. Every step he took, it was absolutely alone. That's what you're seeing when you look at those scars; you're seeing Luke Skywalker breaking through the surface of Palpatine's Sith. You're seeing a battle fought because he couldn't—wouldn't—quite let Luke Skywalker go. And then you actually had the gall to stand in front of him and question his commitment, his motives… You have no idea what he's already given to get this far."

Leia glanced down, genuinely chagrined. "I want to believe in him, it's just…every time I see him, I get some sense of… I think he believes in what he wants to do, I really do…"

"He does."

"I just…sometimes…I don't think he believes in his own motives."

"Because of Palpatine! Palpatine manipulated and dictated to him for five long years, and I can tell you from personal experience, that's a hard thing to climb out from under—more so for Luke, because Palpatine had to control him completely."

"Do you think that Luke can step back…from what he's become?"

Mara sighed, glancing down, all bluster lost. "I don't know. But I do know that Luke's not the thing that Palpatine wanted him to be. He never was… That's why he has those scars."

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Returning to the silence of the still-darkened medi-bay, Leia wrapped her arms about herself as she watched her brother sleep, alternately trying so hard to forget the sight of those scars, then forcing herself to remember; to incorporate it into her concept of all that he'd become. All that he'd dealt with alone and tried to overcome. Nightmares made into memories: harsh, brutal, biting—devastating.

She remained as the night wore on, watching her brother as Nathan Hallin and the _Sol's _Mon Cal medic buzzed in and out constantly, and Mara Jade never strayed further than the corridor outside. But occasionally Leia had time to herself to simply stand and watch her brother, and internalize everything that had happened.

She knew, of course, what had transpired in the hold of the _Wasp_; Han had told her in broken, incredulous words what Luke had done, and she'd sent troops back to the commandeered _Wasp _to retrieve the security images, guided by the medic, Kalter. Had seen for herself what her brother could do. What happened when Palpatine's Sith wolf broke through all of Luke Skywalker's painstakingly created shields. Was that why he has them, she wondered? Was that why he maintained that distance, that detachment. Was that what held the wolf at bay?

Because she knew now what Luke had warned her about.

But she also knew now what Palpatine had done, to create the black wolf which prowled her dreams.

She was still standing like that, still trying to sort through the knot of feelings that were welling inside her, when a long slice of light cut a strip into the darkness as the medi-bay door slid aside and Han entered. He walked up beside her without a word and wrapped his arm reassuringly about her, pulling her close. She leaned into his silent strength for a few seconds before straightening, her hand resting on Luke's arm as she turned to Han, eyes glassy with tears at the mass of emotions which tangled within her.

"Han Solo," she said, smiling, "I'd like you to meet my brother."

Han let out a quiet laugh. "You think he's gonna lamp me for leadin' his sister astray?"

Leia smiled, eyes remaining on Luke. "I'll put in a good word for you."

They were silent again for a few moments, both staring at the battered, sleeping man before them, Leia lost in long-gone memories. It was Han who broke the silence, shuffling uncomfortably. "Did you see the images from the _Wasp_?"

"Yes." What else could she say?

"You know they were gonna fire on him."

Leia sighed, the scene running again in her head, incredible, unfathomable…deeply disturbing. _"He did what he had to, just to survive." _Jade's words a few hours earlier.

"Do you think he could have stopped them all like he stopped Madine?"

"I dunno. I do know that when I was running through that ship myself, I wasn't aiming to wing any armed soldiers I met…were you?"

Leia remained silent, that macabre confrontation replaying again. Living, breathing men atomized in a single, scarlet instant.

She remembered the moment when it had occurred to her onboard the _Wasp _to question whether the Emperor she now negotiated with had actually once been Luke Skywalker—the Luke Skywalker she knew. If that barely grown, good-natured, easygoing man she'd know from Tatooine had been real, and had been forced to endure all that had happened during the last six years.

What would it have done to Luke Skywalker, to have lived this life…faced these trials?

She'd known even then that it wouldn't have broken him, not Luke. But it would have changed him, she knew. Forced him, just as Mara Jade had claimed, to become something else, simply to survive. Was that what Leia was looking at now? Or was she simply letting her heart rule her head?

All she knew was that something whispered as it always had. Something warmed her soul and froze her heart in the same instant, wrapped about by the abiding recognition that long before she'd known the truth, she'd held a deeper knowledge that they were bound together somehow, she and the wolf.

"C'mon." Han squeezed Leia's shoulder as he guided her away from her vigil, but she leaned back against his pull, unwilling to leave.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to get somethin' to eat—I don't want your brother gettin' at me for that as well."

"I'll eat here."

"You know you're hoggin' him, don't you?" Han said good-naturedly. "Mara '_I'm just a bodyguard and if you try to say any different I'll floor you'_ Jade has been waiting with varying degrees of impatience out in that corridor for the last two hours. I can actually see smoke startin' to come out of her ears."

"I'm his sister!"

"I know, sweetheart," Han said in sympathetic tones as he turned her smoothly about. "And Force help him, 'cos already you're tryin' to dictate his life and he's not even awake yet."

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It was the early hours of the morning and everyone slept, the events of the last week catching up on them all now that their adrenaline was spent. Only Mara remained in the still silence of the darkened medi-bay, nursing a swell of silent contentment as she watched Luke's eyes flicker in sleep, sensing the undercurrent of his presence within the Force, soothing and diffuse.

Even Nathan had left to get a few hours sleep, though not before he and Mara had quietly discussed how exactly they were going to bring Luke up to speed without his immediately wanting to get up and do something about it.

The way Mara saw it, there were three sticking points: firstly, the fact that Madine and around a dozen of his SO troops had managed to board one of the _Wasp's _shuttles and break free, escaping to hyperspace. Secondly, how exactly were they going to broach the whole subject of Kiria D'Arca arresting Nathan and intending to arrest Mara, and thirdly…well, she'd have that conversation on her own with Luke, Mara supposed, nerves fluttering in her stomach at the thought.

The Force quivered in a subtle shift which brought her back to the moment as Luke's eyes fluttered open. He glanced quickly about, tensing to rise in the same instant as Mara stood, and she watched his shoulders slacken again as he saw her, and felt her own smile radiate through her entire being. "Welcome aboard the _Sol_," she said, knowing it would be the first thing he asked.

He glanced about again, blinking slowly, pulling his thoughts together. "Are we guests, or…"

"Well, we're not in the brig and the ceasefire's holding. And we now have nine Destroyers in close proximity, and more on the way."

He slumped back. "No, you were right to only bring three—order the others away for now."

"Well, I can try," Mara said, standing and slipping out of her boots as she lifted the blanket of his high medi-bunk, suddenly feeling she wasn't nearly close enough to him. She shook her head as he looked quizzically to her. "Long, _long _story. Move over."

Luke glanced to the corner of the ceiling, eyes remaining on the lens there as he spoke. "You know they have security surveillance in here, don't you?"

Mara didn't even slow down. "You know I learned how to deactivate those systems when I was twelve, don't you?"

"Now _that _is an education." Luke grinned tiredly, the sight macabre on so beaten a face, as Mara climbed into the narrow medical bunk beside him.

"Anyway, they've run a tracer over you, because you're sending half the medical sensors haywire—apparently at some point you swallowed some kind of scrambler and it's cutting out all the medical gear and the surveillance near you. I'm assuming it's the one that Leia says she gave you."

"That's where that went!"

"Yeah, you'll be seeing it again in three to five days. Why did you have it in your mouth?"

"Long story."

Mara settled against him—and paused as he tensed, hands to his stomach, worried she'd hurt him. "What's sore?"

"Nothing, it's just cramp," he dismissed too quickly. "I don't care."

They lay for long moments in contented silence, as Mara made the most of the lull before whatever the hell the next storm would be, because with Skywalker, she knew it couldn't be that far away. She leaned back again, voice dry.

"You know, I know that you like playing sabacc, but if you could use something other than your own damn neck occasionally…"

Luke managed a half-smile. "Well, if you played sabacc with me more often over a table, maybe I wouldn't feel the need to play it big-scale like this."

"Yeah, nice try, flyboy. I'm still not spending the one quiet evening in every blue moon that we get together letting you fleece me out of yet more credits with sabacc."

He shrugged. "Well, at least now you'd have an even chance…"

Mara frowned, then her eyes widened in realization as she straightened slightly to look at him. "You _said _you didn't use the Force!"

He grinned, blue eyes bright against the deep bruises beneath them. "I know. I can't believe you bought that."

"You are so very lucky you already have broken ribs right now," Mara growled in mock indignation, settling against him again.

They fell back into that comfortable silence, as Mara began to drift in the soothing darkness…

.

"Have you contacted the _Patriot _yet?" Luke murmured at last.

"Wow, you sure know how to sweet-talk a girl," she uttered wryly.

"I need to make arrangements for the HoloNet to be there for the handover and for _Home One_ to…"

"You've been awake three minutes—don't start jumping back into it all already, Skywalker," Mara scolded lightly. "We've managed just fine for the last two weeks. One more night won't make any difference."

"I just need to organize a few things, get them underway. I need to make sure that the Rebel ships get safe passage—but you can do that—and we need to choose a hand-over point for…why aren't you in the _Patriot_, anyway?"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He hesitated a second then let it go, tensing against some unknown ache before continuing. "I need to see Leia—_Home One _should be there at the hand-over. That could mean a few days' wait, right? Where are we? You need to move the main fleet out of the…"

"Okay, maybe we do need to talk about that a bit," Mara allowed. "I'm not presently in command of…well, anything."

She felt the bristles of his chin brush against her hair as he looked down. "You're…what?"

"I left Coruscant to… Look, it's a long story, all right? Suffice it to say, Kiria D'Arca is Empress in more than title right now."

She felt Luke's head fall back, his voice conveying that something had just come clear. "_Kiria _held power."

"Not my best decision, I know, but…"

He straightened slightly to look at her. "Wait a minute, she's Regent _right now?_ I thought the Empress…I thought Kiria was dead?"

"Dead? No, why would she be dead?" Mara sat up a little. "What, did you think I'd just kill her the moment you were gone? I'm insulted!"

"No, Madine said…" Luke collapsed back down, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter—it doesn't matter."

They were silent for a few moments more, though this close to him Mara could sense his thoughts buzzing now, tired as he was. Eventually he could resist no longer. "No wait, it does matter. Why aren't you Regent—are you saying Kiria is?"

"Kiria is, I'm not. I handed power over to her to come after you when we saw…the images. I didn't know she'd just turn around and arrest Nathan."

Luke struggled to sitting as his voice rose. "She _what!"_

"Okay, I meant to ease you into that one a little gentler…"

Luke was already throwing the blanket aside.

"Wait." Mara grabbed at his arm, pulling him easily back, so weak was he still, his arms wrapped about his stomach. "What exactly do you think you're going to do about it right now?"

"I'll see what comes to mind between here and the comm room."

"Luke, seriously—are you going to have that conversation on a Rebel comlink? Besides, the comm room is all the way over on the other side of the ship, and frankly I don't think you'd make it that far," she added dryly.

Luke let himself be pulled back, his flare of anger already subsiding—though having been lectured by Nathan on the inadvisability of going off to secret meetings with insufficient bodyguards every single time he'd opened his eyes onboard the _Falcon _had probably helped, Mara reflected.

"Seriously, she arrested him?" Luke repeated, though his voice had more amusement than fire now. "For what?"

"You know, I'm not entirely sure. The specifics didn't really come up when I was busy busting him out of his locked apartment."

They settled again, and Mara listened to the sound of his breathing, feeling the pulse in his neck beat against her cheek.

"So how are you feeling?" Luke asked at last, eliciting a quiet laugh from Mara as he added, "What?"

"Only you could lie in a medical bay, in this state, and ask how someone else was feeling, Skywalker."

"I mean…I dunno, weird eating habits, that kinda stuff."

Mara was silent for long seconds. "When did you work it out?"

"About a week before Kwenn."

"Thanks for passing that on."

"I thought you knew and weren't telling me."

"Why would I not tell you?"

"I don't know—I figured maybe you were waiting for your moment, or maybe you were trying to decide…if it was the right thing."

"Do you think it's the right thing?"

"I think…" He paused, searching for words, and Mara held her breath. "I think it's amazing and incredible and…admittedly a little surprising… But I can't tell you how much it means to me—or how much you do, for that matter."

"You didn't always think that way about it," she said quietly. "Otherwise you would have said something."

"I do now," he said earnestly.

"So…" Mara said after another long pause, "where exactly does that leave things?"

"What things, exactly?"

"You and me things…you, me and junior things. You, me, junior, and Kiria D'Arca things."

Luke sighed. "You tell me?"

"Nobody tells you anything, Luke Skywalker," Mara said knowingly. "So spit it out."

He paused a good while, clearly playing things through in his mind. "Does Kiria know I'm here?"

"You spoke to the Captain of the ISD _Tempest_, remember? Half the fleet's turning in our direction right now."

"But is it public?"

"… No. What are you thinking?"

"I need to speak to Leia. Ask her to contact Kiria directly and make her an offer."

"To do what?"

"Get rid of me. Kill me, in exchange for concessions from the new Empress. Theoretically I'm a headache to the Alliance and if Kiria's really looking to secure her own rule, I'm sure as hell an impediment to that, too."

Mara leaned back slightly. "You want to try to make her condemn herself by her own actions?"

"If Kiria accepts and we hold proof, then I have a legitimate case against her without losing too much support from the Royal Houses—I hope. This has to be on lawful, justifiable grounds—reasons the Royal Houses would accept. If I lose that support, even temporarily, this could all collapse like a house of cards."

Mara remained silent for long seconds, thinking. "That makes perfect sense," she allowed, nodding, "and not a word of it is true, is it?"

Luke frowned. "What?"

"That's my measure of you now, Skywalker, you know that? If it's all perfectly rational and reasonable, then it's not what you're really thinking."

Luke gave the barest of amused smiles. "You're saying I'm neither rational nor reasonable?"

"No, and you're getting off the subject. Nathan pointed that handy little fact out to me; that if you don't want to answer something, you always come back with a question."

"So now suddenly Nathan's your guru?"

"You did it again."

"I…" Luke paused, then seemed to relent slightly, his head falling tiredly back onto his pillow. "I've forgotten the question now."

"Nice try. I was saying that your method for dealing with Kiria was too perfect—so spill it."

Luke sighed. "I have to give her this chance, Mara. I have to give her the benefit of the doubt."

"You remember that she arrested Nathan, right? A minute ago you were apparently willing to _walk _back to Coruscant—in a medical gown, I might add—just to face her down."

"Did she actually have him marched down to the detention center—did she have the arraign read to him?"

"Brace yourself, but I don't think she feels any particular need to be as legally correct as you are."

"Because it sounded to me like you said she confined him to his quarters."

"With guards outside."

"Seriously, tell me what she's done wrong—tell me one thing that would even begin to form a legal case against her?"

"While I might just give her that locking Nathan up would always help any situation..." Mara paused—but the fact was that D'Arca hadn't put a step wrong. She hadn't—ever. Even now, Admiral Joss had said the main fleet was already being reassigned along the Perlemian Trade Route in the Mid Rim, though there were, as yet, no public reasons given as to why.

She'd performed flawlessly when the chips were down and Luke was in trouble. Enough so that Mara had been willing to hand the Empire over to her—albeit temporarily—because she'd known that…damnit, she'd _known _that Kiria would do the right thing. She'd rallied the Royal Houses, she'd held the Empire together… Yes, Mara didn't like the woman personally, but…

"Mara, Kiria knows the Royal Houses better than anyone else. She knows the mood on the ground, she knows how they'll react because she'd do the same. She knows what they need to keep them willing, to move them forward with the new regime, and she's willing to use all that in our favor. I _need _that…so I guess the question is, can you live with it?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes."

Mara thought again on Luke's ring…that was pretty inspired. She narrowed her eyes. "Are you asking me if she can stay—or are you asking me if she can stay with you?"

"With me? There never was a _with me_, Mara. There never will be."

"You're sure?"

"Aren't you?"

"You're doing it again."

Luke grinned this time, tipping his head in acknowledgment. "It's habit, that's all. You get habits like that when people take every passing answer you ever give and translate it on a galactic scale."

Mara nodded as her own lips crooked into a knowing smile. "I actually think I know what you mean… Scary isn't it?"

"You get used to it," Luke murmured sagely, the tired allowance in his voice hinting at his realization that Mara had now experienced, however briefly, what it was to rule.

"Well, having gotten used to one facet of how you think, let's go for another shall we?" Mara tried. "Tell me what you're really thinking about Kiria D'Arca."

"What I'm really thinking?" Luke sighed as if bracing himself. "Okay, firstly, I'm thinking that Kiria will turn Leia down…or I'd be very surprised if she didn't. But if she does turn Leia down, I'm hoping that'll set your mind at rest."

Mara smiled, though he couldn't see. "So you're just doing this to help me sleep at night?"

"And me," he leaned back slightly to look her in the eye, "since I'm assuming we'll both be in the same bed."

Now that _really _made her smile.

Luke dropped back onto the pillow. "Secondly…I know that I need Kiria to make this work, for all the reasons I've already said. I can't tell you how integral that ability to tap into the Royal Houses is right now, to everything. Changes are picking up momentum and this little episode may well be nothing compared to those we have in store. Kiria can hold the Royal Houses steady..."

"You have the military to control the Royal Houses."

"Mara, half the leading military and all of the Regional Governors _are _the Royal Houses. Most of the ranking military Officers and Moffs come from that strata of society. I simply don't have a big enough pool of officers or diplomats who've made it on their own merit to change the system yet, and I'm not gonna just exchange one bad system for another. Better the devil you know—and can control. Kiria gives me a huge advantage in terms of influencing the Royal Houses and therefore a good portion of the military, and that's one great big headache less to worry about. Now's not the time for any change that isn't absolutely necessary. And she and I both know exactly where we stand with each other—we always have. I need her, and she needs me—politically."

"Politics," Mara growled. "Why can't someone else do the damn politics for awhile."

"I'm working on it," Luke said. "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm guessing that Kiria will be panicking big-time right about now because of what she did to Nath. Knowing Kiria, she'll be working very hard to translate that into a trade-off, if she thinks she can buy your continued silence."

"Wait, why would she think I wouldn't have told you already?"

"Because she's a political animal. She'd assume you'd be holding that kind of knowledge in reserve to see what it's worth, as she would."

Mara smiled, knowing that having arrested Nathan was only half of that particular headache for Kiria D'Arca. "And you're going to keep quiet about knowing, because as long as she _thinks _you don't know, she's still in a corner, right? See, now, _this _sounds like fun."

"Welcome to politics," Luke said dryly—then his voice turned serious. "Mara, we have the opportunity to push things forward so much on the back of all this—but for that I still need Kiria. So you see we're back to the same question… Where exactly does that leave things—you tell me?"

Mara stilled to silent consideration. "I suppose to get rid of her now, after all this, would be a little ungracious in the public's eye, especially for the Emperor whom they think can do no wrong right now."

She heard Luke's teasing smile in his voice. "Do no wrong, huh?"

"In the _public _eye," Mara underlined dryly.

"Strictly public, then?" Luke asked in kind. "Well, if I stated the fact that yes, I am _sure _that there never was or ever will be a _with me_ in regards to Kiria D'Arca…does that earn me a few points in Mara Jade's books too?"

"I'll think about it," Mara said. "Besides, if you need someone in the Royal Houses that much you'd just have to replace her anyway, wouldn't you? Even if you got rid of her, you'd be going shopping when we get back to Coruscant."

"I'd…find a way to work round it somehow."

"Please—come to think of it, the moment it got out that you were back on the market we'd have every frip and airhead with a drip of blue blood hanging round the Imperial Palace again. I gotta give D'Arca that: she keeps the boards clear, doesn't tolerate any gold-diggers."

"You're all heart."

Mara shrugged elaborately. "Credit where it's due. And that sassy little cheerleader from the Inigo family has been particularly persistent. She so very has her eyes on you."

"Which one is she?"

"The one who was trying her best to cut an inroad actually on your wedding day. I was watching her on security footage."

"No, don't remember."

"Green dress."

"No."

"Grief, how can you not remember, she was barely in it!"

"Oh wait, I remember _her!"_

Mara had already half-turned before she realized he was teasing her.

"You know, you've got to have a little faith, Mara. I can't stop speaking to every female member of every race just 'cos it makes you antsy."

"In my defense, you did marry the last one you got speaking to."

"Touché," he said easily—then his tone turned serious again. "Tell me you can't live with Kiria being there. Tell me it means that much to you, and she's gone."

"It means that much to me."

Luke sighed just once, but his voice was committed. "Then she's gone."

Mara blinked, surprised, pushing up onto one elbow to look him in the face. "Really? I thought you said you couldn't do this without her?"

"I can't…but I can do it without you even less. So she's gone—my word."

Mara stared for long seconds…then pursed her lips, resigned. "…Fine, she can stay."

"No, it's okay, really—"

"Don't start, otherwise I might just change my mind."

"…Sure?"

"Whatever. Greater good and all that," Mara said as she settled back down against him, more deadpan than she really felt. Suddenly suspicious, she glanced up to his battered face. "You are the most… Did you do that on purpose?"

"No, I'd've asked her to leave."

"You just said you needed her to stay."

He shrugged, wincing slightly as his battered body complained even at this. "Calculated risk."

Mara glanced away as she pressed closer to him, smiling in spite of herself. "Fine, all right, we will play more sabacc, okay? On the condition that you _stop _playing it big-scale… Are you happy now?"

"..Yeah…" Luke paused just slightly, a slow smile creeping across his tired face. "…Yeah, I think I am. You?"

"I think I can live with that." Mara nodded slowly, thoughts going back to Kiria… To General Arco's communiqué saying that the Empress had been given the opportunity to arrest Mara and Nathan when their shuttle had been spotted just two days out of Coruscant… Yet she'd given the order to let them pass, unopposed. "And anyway, we had words when you were gone—quite a few, in fact. I'd say we've come to our own particular arrangement, D'Arca and I. Doesn't always work, but when it does, it gets results."

Luke nodded, eyes closing as he let his head drop back…then frowned, looking quickly to Mara. "Wait, you had words?"

"Yeah."

"You and Kiria?"

"Yeah."

"About me?"

"I think you came up in the conversation." Mara grinned. "Worried?"

The man who had dueled Darth Vader, faced down Palpatine, ruled an Empire, and was now working to broker peace on a galactic scale nodded without hesitation. "Yeah, very."

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"Good morning."

Still muzzy, Luke opened his eyes at the greeting, to see Nathan hovering over him, staring solicitously.

"Your nose is broken."

"Yeah, I know," Luke said, easing up and squinting in the painfully bright light. "I was there when they did it."

"You also have…"

"Wait, don't tell me," Luke said quickly. "I seriously don't want to know. Tell me what's happening outside."

"Well, Mara's gone to find the mess hall, but…"

"No, I mean the galaxy, Nath. Big picture."

"Oh. I think Organa's been putting together a summary for you—you know, she's as bad as you when it comes to never turning off. I don't think you two should work together, you'll just egg each other on. I can't imagine what you'd do between you if you got started. Oh, she sent that offer to Kiria D'Arca as you asked last night, on the frequency you gave her. Put forward that rather…interesting proposal to remove you entirely. Why are you squinting?"

"Planet-sized headache," Luke dismissed. "Any reply?"

"Not yet. But Admiral Joss tells me that the main fleet received new orders a few hours ago. Their mandate's to converge on the Tholatin System and blockade it so nothing gets in or out. They've been ordered to identify and detain a Rebel freighter named Sol—though ever the politician, she apparently used the word, _safeguard_."

"So she'll send her reply when she's sure she has the system locked down."

"Perhaps you should board the _Tempest _now—it's still off our bow."

"No, I'm staying right here."

"Is this a bad time for me to point out that the last time you boarded a Rebel freighter without sufficient security, they did this to you?"

Luke couldn't help but smile. "It hasn't stopped you the other dozen times, Nath. Can we turn the lights down in here?"

Nathan backed up to lower the lights. "Do you need a painkiller? They haven't given you anything because…well, you still have quite a few other drugs in your system."

"Painkiller would be good," Luke admitted uncharacteristically. "And something for nausea."

"I'll speak to them."

"Thanks. Then you need to get onboard the _Tempest _and head out to meet the _Patriot_."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I need you onboard the _Patriot _by the time Leia returns to _Home One_."

"Leave?" Nathan's eyes widened. "Do you know how long it took me to find you?"

"Nath, for once in your life could you just…" Luke broke off, doubling over as his stomach cramped painfully.

Nathan stepped quickly forward to rest one hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, what's hurting?"

"Nothing, just cramps."

"I'm not going anywhere—I'm your physician and you need me here."

Luke shook his head. "Nath, listen to me, because I'll tell you this as many times as I have to until you understand: I don't need a physician. I need a Chancellor I can depend on. One I'd trust implicitly because I know that he knows my mind and what my choices would be."

"Send Mara—she's a Senior Aide too."

"You're saying if something goes wrong onboard the Sol, you're gonna be more useful here than Mara?"

"…Possibly…"

"And I can tell her you said that?"

"…no…"

"Nath, I need you onboard the _Patriot _far more than I need you here, I promise you. And I need you there under an official diplomatic banner." Luke tried his most persuasive smile. "Even I need friends in high places sometimes."

"So does that mean that if I become a Chancellor, there's a chance that you might listen to me occasionally?"

"That's why they call them _chance_llors, Nath." Luke caved a little at Nathan's pointed lack of amusement. "Anyway, I always listen to you."

"But is there any chance that you might listen to me and actually take my advice?"

"Possibly, some of it… There's always that chance," Luke said gamely. "I guess you'll have to try it to see."

"If I go—_if_—you need to promise me you'll not try to push yourself, and you'll do as the medic here says."

"I promise."

"And mean it."

"Fine, whatever, Nath."

"And don't try that _I'm indestructible _tone on me," Nathan chided good-naturedly. "It loses a little of its impact when it's accompanied by two black eyes and a broken nose."

Luke smiled weakly as he collapsed back. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You are an impossible man," Nathan said wryly, "and it's good to see you in one piece, my friend. After…Wez…"

"I'm sorry, Nath—sorry I couldn't tell you."

Nathan shook his head in dismissal, clearly not yet able to talk about Wez's actual betrayal. "Why did you let it go ahead?"

"I needed to be sure. I needed _you _to be sure…I couldn't lose you as well as Wez."

"Mara told me you knew when you went to Kwenn Station that something was wrong."

"You and Mara are talking way too much."

Nathan grinned, but only briefly. "I should have known. You were like a caged nek all that morning—and you didn't want Mara to go… I talked you into that, didn't I?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Nath," Luke quickly dismissed Nathan's guilt, knowing he'd dwell on it otherwise. "I changed my mind, that's all."

"And you couldn't have changed it to_ not going at all?" _Nathan asked wryly.

"I had to give Wez every chance to back out." Luke shrugged, trying to make light of it at Nathan's guilty face. "Hey, if I'd've known Madine was involved, I might not have been as willing to spring the trap."

"No, you might not," Nathan said. "But you'd have done it just the same, wouldn't you?"

Luke didn't reply—but then Nathan knew him well enough to know that this was an answer in itself.

"Thank you," Nathan said simply at last. "You take insane risks, you know that?"

Luke smiled, easing himself to a more comfortable position, his whole body aching. "I prefer to call them calculated."

"Yes, I think you got the figures a little out on that last one."

"Hey, I didn't say I was good at the math."

"Perhaps you should let me calculate the odds of this new little diversion then? Particularly since I'm apparently a Chancellor now."

"Does that mean you'll take it?"

"Do I get a larger apartment?"

"You can have mine if you'll take the damn job."

"I think something a little less ostentatious in the South Tower will be fine… Plus an explanation of just what you need me to do so very much."

"I need you to go out to meet Kiria. She'll be coming in on the _Patriot _by now, I'm guessing."

"She hasn't sent her answer to Leia Organa yet."

"Because she's nervous about Leia following through on her threat and killing me as soon as Kiria dismisses the deal." Luke dropped back onto his pillow, tired and dizzy. The room had begun to spin slowly, reminding him all too vividly of the cell onboard the _Wasp_. "She'll want to buy as much time as possible to get Destroyers in position and interdict the system before she answers."

"Maybe she has a point. They're not all as amenable as Organa."

"They're not all Crix Madine either." Luke sighed, running out of steam to argue. "Kiria D'Arca's useful because she knows the Royal Houses…well, Luke Skywalker's useful because he knows the Alliance, and I'm telling you this…they _will _return me, and this may even get them into talks, with your help. Nath, I've spent the last year and a half working to persuade everyone that the Rebel Alliance aren't so very different from us, and angling to reintegrate them. I'm not losing all that because of Crix Madine. If we do a public transfer from a Rebel vessel to an Imperial one—if people _see _that, because the Holo-press are in attendance—I think it'll diffuse a lot of the damage he's done."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I'll travel to the nearest planet on the _Sol_. I want you to board the Patriot and liaise between Leia and the Empire—that's something I can't trust Kiria to do. Confirm a date and place, and make sure that _Home One_ attends—and that the Holo-press are there." Luke smiled wickedly. "All those restrictions lifting—let's actually give them something to report."

Nathan hesitated. "You should probably know…last time we met, Kiria arrested me for treason."

Luke leaned back, exhausted but still smiling, eyes closed. "Well then, feel free to gloat a little—you're officially pardoned and you've been promoted to the rank of Chancellor. Tell her if she wants it in writing I'll come and scrawl it in indelible ink all over that damn marble receiving room that she loves so much in her apartments."

Nathan smiled. "Maybe I'll paraphrase that to, 'He seemed somewhat displeased at certain of your actions,' if you don't mind."

"I think mine sounded better, but whatever." Luke stiffened, hands going again to his cramping stomach, though he tried hard to hide it, aware that he still looked like hell, and Nathan, ever the medic, wouldn't leave if...

He glanced up quickly as Nathan stepped closer. "Close the door, Nath. Is this scrambler still working?"

Nathan did as he was asked, nodding as he returned to the bed. "Yes, it is."

"I need you to do something for me…without arguing."

"What?"

Luke brought his hands up to drag them back through his hair, aware of how badly they were shaking. "On the ship…one of the drugs they were using with the SK that Reece had given them was Frost."

Nathan's expression hardened in disgust. "Fralodiost, yes. There were still traces of both, as well as traces of Amo-tricliptidine, in your bloodstream when we got you here—and in your liver and kidneys."

Luke hesitated. "Would the medi-center have any?"

"No, they'd never stock a…" Nathan halted, realizing. "You want me to _give you_ a highly addictive narcotic?"

"No, I want you to buy me three days, until I get back to the _Patriot_. I need that time, Nath—I can't deal with this now, not with everything else that's happening."

Nathan shook his head. "I'm not… I really don't know. Luke, I can't give you fralodiost, it's highly addictive and injurious."

"Nath, I need something to counter this withdrawal—just until I get back to Coruscant, that's all."

Nathan sighed, deeply worried. "How often did they give it to you?"

"Often enough that I need it now. I _really _need it. I have since the first time I woke."

"Do you know how much?"

"No, it was mixed with the SK. Combined, they were maybe forty milliliters to start…by the end, I think it was eighty."

Nathan let out a low breath, shaking his head.

"Three days… I need to buy three days, you know that." Luke shook his head. "I can't stop yet, not when I'm this close. Nath, I need those three days."

Deeply unsure, Nathan relented. "I can synthesize something from medicinal ryll and co-fralodistillate which will dampen withdrawal symptoms and control the cravings with…minimal effects. Take it last thing at night and you can sleep through the symptoms." Nathan's face became serious, stern lines etching his brow. "I'll give you enough to last until you come back onboard the _Patriot_; one dose a day, no more."

Luke nodded, letting out a breath before looking back to Nathan. "And no one knows—and I mean no one. Not Leia, not Mara, no one."

"I understand."

"Can you get the drugs without anyone knowing?"

"Yes, I think so."

Luke sighed, hands dragging through his hair again. "…I should rephrase that: after a day and a half without anything, can you get the drugs _right now_ without anyone knowing?"

Nathan straightened. "I'm sorry, yes…I'll get on it."

Luke nodded once. "Then you need to get onboard the _Tempest _and get to the _Patriot _as soon as you can."

"I'm on my way—as long as you promise to remain in the medi-center, do as you're told, and rest."

Luke let his head drop back onto the pillow, the room still spinning. "Deal."

Nathan turned to go. At the door he paused, turning back in wry realization. "You have no intention of keeping that promise, do you?"

Eyes still closed, Luke's smile turned into an easy grin. "Welcome to the wonderful world of politics, Chancellor."

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When Leia entered the medi-bay late that afternoon, it was to see Luke sitting upright, the _Sol's _Mon Cal medic leaning over his back as he pulled surgical sutures free. Immediately upon seeing her, Luke straightened, uncomfortable.

She waited in silence until the medic had finished, gathering his apparatus to leave quickly and without comment. Alone now, she offered the obvious, hoping to set this to rest by referring to it openly. "I've seen the scars—all of them. I know what they are; Mara told me."

Luke shrugged the medical sleep-shirt back on in silence, seeming resigned rather than embarrassed or defensive. But then what could he say, Leia supposed?

Seeing him struggle to pull the shirt over stiff shoulders Leia stepped forward quickly, but he shook his head. "I'm fine. I don't need help."

Pale, mismatched eyes glanced quickly to her then away, the deep bruises beneath making them seem impossibly blue. Memories of their escape from Bespin fired for Leia, when she'd tended a bruised and battered Luke after his ordeal with Vader…though at the time Luke's trials had only just begun; she knew that now. She was struck quite suddenly by how easily she could go back to that moment and that mindset. By how similar he looked, hardly a day older, though it seemed that centuries had passed.

Quite suddenly her eyes were blurred by tears at the ache within her for the friend she'd lost, a place in her soul that no one else could fill.

He glanced to her, clearly uncertain whether his words had caused this. "Leia?"

"Do you remember in the medi-bunk onboard the _Falcon_, after Bespin?"

His voice was quiet, still weak from exhaustion and injury…but something more was there; some openness of his own. "I remember."

"Do you…think we could pick up from that point again?" Leia asked tentatively. "Just…pretend everything in between never happened?"

He was silent just for a moment, and Leia held her breath, clinging to the hope that…

"No," he said at last, the word broken by regret. "No, that man's gone. I'm sorry."

Leia shook her head as she stepped closer. "I don't believe that—I don't believe he's gone, just…lost. Broken perhaps. We can find him, fix him again, make him whole."

"I don't think so. He lost too many pieces along the way." Again that momentary silence, his voice laced with regret but certain, now. "You can't rebuild what's gone forever."

He looked to her, and in that moment—just for a few seconds—all those shields fell and Leia saw in his eyes the man she'd known, the same insecurities and doubts and hopes and…no.

No, he wasn't the same—and he was right; he never would be.

His face turned down, and when he spoke his composure had returned, the slightest sigh beneath his words touching on deeper emotions. "You want something that doesn't exist any more."

"Don't you?" When he didn't reply, she stepped closer, not willing to give up so easily. "Hope is the…"

"Hope is the first thing you lose," he said quietly across her words, the honesty in his voice reaching deep inside her, touching her soul in a way that made it bleed for him. "Hope is the first thing they take."

A slight, self-depreciating smile touched the corners of those scarred lips, though he wouldn't meet her eye. "Trust…trust and faith you give away. You give it to those you value and you hope they'll give it to you in return."

He shrugged, and as suddenly as it had materialized, his momentary vulnerability dissolved again, locked away behind those shields… But she knew now why the shields were there; what unhealed wounds they protected, as he spoke again.

"But like hope, they're finite…and when you have none left, then you've learned your lesson."

He didn't say more, didn't need to. Leia had taken her share of both from him, she knew; exacted her own price.

"I'm so sorry." It was all she could find to voice her regrets, pitifully inadequate before the depth of emotion which moved her.

"For what?" he said easily, tone that perfect facsimile of dismissive amusement, even now, as he began to tire. "For making me Emperor?"

Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them away, making him glance uneasily to her. "Don't—don't make light of this. I have…no idea what to say." It was all she could offer before this truth.

Luke looked away. "There's nothing to say. It was a long time ago."

"But you carry it with you every day." How could he not?

He smiled slightly, though he was clearly fading as his head fell back onto his pillow. "Of all the things I carry, that, I promise you, is the lightest."

"You could have told me," Leia said quietly, but he didn't speak, eyes closed now, still exhausted. "I was just trying to do the right thing," she added softly. "To look at the greater implications."

He laughed just slightly. "Following your head instead of your heart."

Leia frowned. Wasn't that just exactly what she'd been worrying this morning—that she was letting her heart rule her head? "Is that so wrong?"

"No, it's just…something I read once," he murmured. " '_She balances the fate of worlds whilst head and heart make war.'_ "

She stared, not understanding, either his words or the wry amusement beneath them. "Poetry?"

"Prophesy." He shrugged at Leia's unspoken skepticism. "I don't believe them either…or I won't be bound by them, at any rate. I have my own intentions." He opened his eyes suddenly. "I need you to do something for me."

"Go on?"

"_Home One_ has to be there when I return to the Empire, it has to be seen."

"_Home One_?" Leia glanced down. "It'll be hard to convince them if there are Imperial Destroyers there."

"Go back—persuade them. Tell them I'll personally guarantee their safety. They'll need to do this when the talks begin anyway, and if they do it now, it's a public statement of shared intent. You need to distance the Alliance from Madine's actions—this is how you can do it."

"Let me tell them who you are, who you were—the truth." He was already shaking his head, but Leia pushed on. "Luke, what do you have to hide any more? The real truth would be a huge incentive to sway the Alliance."

"But it would lose me the Empire. Completely. We'd be back to square one, only worse, because there'd be a huge power struggle to gain control, maybe even a knee-jerk response against the Alliance."

"You don't know that."

"I hold power in the Empire by being what they _believe _me to be, I hold it together on the strength of what they think that I am: Palpatine's heir. Do you seriously think that anything less would keep the military together, hold them in check—contain them through the change? You think the military would fight to keep an ex-Rebel in power when the challengers to all this change start speaking out? You think the Royal Houses, who stood behind Palpatine for three decades, would stand for that? Everything that I've built, I'd lose."

"At least take your own name back. Luke, there's nothing left—there's nothing left of your past anywhere. No one would know who you were based on your name anymore, so few remember you. Take it back; take your name back."

Luke shook his head. "I don't care if they know who I am, it doesn't matter any more. It doesn't even matter if they understand why I'm doing this. What matters is that somebody does it."

And how could these be the words of a Sith, Leia thought? How could he believe himself to be such, listening to his own words.

"And they can never know that we're brother and sister," he warned, voice hard. "Ever. If they did, you'd lose the respect and the support of your people and the power base _you've _built. Everyone would believe that we were only ever setting up a dynasty to rule, one way or another. That it was all political games."

Leia sighed, looking down. "Maybe I don't care."

"Yes, you do, because it'd take apart everything we've worked so long to build, and that's bigger. We know—that's enough." He smiled. "And anyway, I need you. I need you to fight me. Every step of the way, every single day, I need you to fight me and question me, if only on the political stage. I need you to do what I know I'd never let anyone else even attempt—what I'd take them apart for trying. I need you to push me, I need you to challenge me. _Make _me do the right thing. I need you to be my conscience."

"You don't need my conscience, you have your own—that's what's got us both to this point."

Luke glanced down, thoughtful. "My Master used to say conscience was a weakness to be used in others and conquered within myself. And I did so—because I wouldn't let him keep on using me."

Leia frowned. "Your Master?"

"Palpatine." There was no hint of apology in his voice when he looked to her. "Because he _was _my Master. He made me what I am, good and bad—and if you don't want to believe that, then answer this…did you trust the wolf in your dreams, before you realized it was me?"

Leia remained silent, knowing the truth, and when Luke looked quickly down, she wasn't sure if it was victory or disappointment she saw in his face. "I told you before, don't deceive yourself. Don't think for a moment that this will be easy, or that I'll simply give you what you want, or agree with anything you say on how to move forward. There's too much of Palpatine's wolf here. You ask me if I can go back—you don't understand how well he taught his lessons… There's nothing left to go back to."

"You're not a wolf," Leia said categorically. "And you're certainly not Palpatine's wolf, no matter what he did or didn't do."

"You're not looking closely enough," he said dismissively. "I'm seldom as obvious as my actions onboard the _Wasp_."

Leia glanced momentarily away, the macabre deaths of Luke's jailors playing again through her mind. Did he know she'd seen the images?

She looked back to coolly calculating eyes, as he spoke. "You told me once that for a wolf I rarely bared my teeth. That doesn't change the nature of the beast."

"I also said that you do only what you perceive as necessary."

"You're right; and I always will—so I'll say it again: that makes me the most dangerous wolf of all."

Leia held her ground, unfazed, becoming more used to these quicksilver changes in temperament now, a method to push others back to a safe distance, whether he knew it or not. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You want to understand me? That's who I am—that's what Palpatine made me. I will _always _be the wolf to some degree. I can control it, most of the time, turn it to my own use… But not every time. You need to know that."

"Mara trusts you."

"Mara's…selective in what she chooses to see."

Leia lifted her chin, frustration setting in. "Mara may see what she wants to see but you know damn well that I don't. I weigh up the facts and I make my own decisions and come to my own conclusions based on them, and I'll tell you this—you're not Sith. Or do you think for one moment that I'd have come back to that table and tried to negotiate with a Sith? You once said to me that our meeting would never have happened in Palpatine's reign, and you're right. But that's not only because he never would have initiated it. The fact is, I never would have gone back to that table a second time, because I never would have believed it could have worked—not with him. With you, I did. I still do. And I'm not talking about all this—everything that we know now. We didn't know it then, and yet we both came back to that table."

"I sat at that table trying to decide whether to destroy you or not," Luke said with raw honesty.

"I'm sure you did, and you know I did the same… But you didn't do it, did you? That's the fact: you didn't do it."

"That doesn't change what I am."

"No, only you can do that. And don't tell me that you don't want to, because I won't believe you." She stepped forward, her voice softening slightly. "Luke, you said you were so far from the light that you didn't know where to turn to look for it… Don't you realize—you've already started walking towards it…and I won't let you turn away."

He shook his head. "Don't—don't trust. I don't want blind trust—that's no use to me."

"Then what do you want?"

"I told you, I need a conscience, someone with the same end goal as I have, but who'll question my motives and my actions every step of the way. Someone with the nerve and the power to challenge me, to hold the wolf in check."

"And you think that's me. Why?"

"Because you're my sister. You have the same abilities I have—you just need to learn to use them."

"No." Leia shook her head. "More basic than that."

Luke frowned. "What?"

"You came to me. You could have chosen anyone but you came to me, long before you knew what we were to each other. Why? Because you trusted me. You believed in me, in my judgment. That's the fact, isn't it?"

He took a breath to speak, but Leia was on full form now, shaking her head. "Well then have faith in it now. Have faith in my convictions about the man that_ I _believe in, and because of them, maybe have a little faith in yourself. Yes, I saw the images in the _Wasp's _hold—I ran them back a little earlier too… I watched you back over that center line believing you would die, for no other reason than because you didn't want to give Madine what he wanted—the means to start a war. Isn't that the truth?

"You're the same man you always were, Luke Skywalker, and I know it. I _believe _it. Otherwise why would you bother with all this, when you already have power? Why put that on the line? You're still trying to get that peace you were fighting for when you were eighteen, aren't you? You're still willing to give up everything for that greater cause, one which always looked outwards, to others. You're trying to do what you believe is right—you always were. You removed an Emperor who ruled by force and you're slowly dragging his Empire back to a democracy, giving freedom and rights back to the people. That's what's at the core of you, when all else is stripped away, and that's who I believe in." Leia paused, quoting again the words that Luke had challenged her with on their first meeting. "_ 'It's not what you call us and it's not where we stand. It's what we do which defines us.' _If you're going to brood on something, brood on that."

She leaned forward, hand reaching out to gently brush the long, loosely curled hair from his forehead. He leaned back, disconcerted rather than offended, but she smiled, voice turning gentle. "And then get some sleep."

She turned, wanting to give him the rest he so clearly needed, but paused to glance back from the door. "Perhaps you're not Luke Skywalker any more, but I can tell you this, _Excellency_… Luke Skywalker would have been proud of you."

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Alone again, Luke pondered Leia's words, her very existence the one proof that overrode all others, because she was his _sister_. The blood in his veins, the inheritance, the legacy…all this he shared with her.

Was that why he'd found it so necessary over the years to keep her in his life in one way or another, some distant empathy sounding that pitch-perfect refrain at the very edge of his consciousness?

His sister, his twin. She was a part of this heritage, his legacy, and she was just and fair and good…and so he'd held that potential too. However twisted by Palpatine, he'd _held that potential_… and so, therefore, did his unborn son. And that was good enough for Luke. That was everything.

For his son.

For himself…Luke thought back to that moment on the _Wasp_, to the way that he'd killed the soldiers about Madine, the men who had tormented and tortured at Madine's command. It wasn't until he saw Han's face as he'd come down into the bay, sensed his hidden wonder and deep unease, that Luke had even bothered to think about what he'd done to Madine's men, realizing that he'd killed them in the same way he'd killed the guards who had tormented him on Palpatine's behest when he'd first turned to the Dark Side—ripped them to shreds in the blink of an eye, at the speed of the thought.

Then, the action had seemed so momentous—a life-changing act. Now, it seemed nothing at all, dismissed already. He pondered this for a long time, studying it dispassionately against Leia's claims, wondering again how far he had fallen without even realizing it.

Remembering his drug-induced admission to the medic: "_The one thing I really fear, that demon in the darkness, is myself…"_  
It was his burden to carry, the result of Palpatine's flawlessly executed work. No matter what anyone else believed, he still knew the truth. But he wouldn't be bound by it; would push the wolf back down to walk in his shadow once more. Staring out of the medi-bay's small viewscreen, he watched the dawn race across the surface of the distant rust-red moon where he'd so nearly lost everything, the bright light of dawn chasing back the darkness of another night…but only ever holding it at bay. At this distance it seemed so tranquil, so serene. Perfect night and pristine light. He smiled, realization granting a strangely calm acceptance; that was where he lived his life now, he knew—where he always would. Balancing forever on that knife-edge, at the very brink of the dawn and the darkness.

If that meant he had to learn to deal with the wolf, to fulfill the oath he had sworn against a vindictive old man's ceaseless ambitions, then he would. He could. Maybe there was a wolf in his shadow…but it would damn well learn to walk to heel.

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It was well before breakfast when Mara entered the medi-bay, but Luke was already sitting up. He still looked like hell, but was starting to make the effort to hide the fact, which meant that he was on the way to mending, she knew.

"Well, Kiria's come back with her reply, and it's a pretty categorical no," Mara said, much as it pained her. "And just to clarify that, it arrived with nine more Star Destroyers and two Interdictors. Leia's passed on the fact that she made the offer at your behest, and the codes you gave her, as well as the planet you want the actual transfer to go ahead on. Arco's already contacted me to say that preparations are underway for the fleet to converge on Serenno for your return. The Scarlet Empress has, once again, managed to come out whiter than white."

"Disappointed?"

Mara shrugged, climbing onto the bunk but sitting on top of the sheets. "Maybe a little."

"Did she ask to speak to you?"

"No, why?"

"She will. She's not gonna stay very whiter than white if it gets out that she tried to arrest Nathan, and she knows it."

Mara nodded, wondering privately why she hadn't yet admitted that D'Arca had been about to arrest her too. But she didn't want to be the one to load anything more onto Luke right now. Sitting up, his arm around her as she leaned in to him, he seemed to be improving, but she'd also seen his frailty when he tried to walk more than a few steps, the stiffness and obvious pain which slowed his every movement…and those were the injuries she could see. He remained, as ever, one of the most resilient people she'd ever met—and she had to wonder what that cost him, deep down.

He squeezed her gently, breaking her line of thought. "I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't. I did, however, promise Nathan that I'd make sure you kept your end of his bargain."

"You know, I'm not sure I like this two-prong attack you pair have going."

"Learn to live with it." Mara smiled. "Leia said she'd stop in before she and Han set off back to _Home One_."

"Good."

"Han didn't want to go. He made the very good point that if you're determined to have _Home One _at the handover, we could all travel back to _Home One_ onboard the _Sol_, then go on to the handover point."

"He already told me, but I don't want to arrive at _Home One _on a Rebel vessel…let's not tempt providence too much," he said wryly. "We'll stay onboard the _Sol _to travel to Serenno and meet the _Patriot _and our fleet there."

"They're already arguing about how many ships each side can have in orbit and planet-side," Mara grumbled. "I'm not happy about this at all."

"About what?"

"Han and Leia leaving. Have you spoken to the Captain of the _Sol _yet?"

"No."

"And you don't think that's odd? Convention aside, the Captain of some third-rate Rebel freighter has the Emperor onboard and she doesn't even bother to come down here to speak to you."

"Well, I'm still her sworn enemy."

"Oh, you remember that, do you?" Mara raised an eyebrow, half-turning to him. "I wasn't entirely sure any more."

"But that's what the talks are for," Luke continued smoothly.

"Yes, but the talks haven't happened yet—in fact, forget happened, forget even started—no one even _knows _about them yet. Which means as far as Captain Varo is concerned, you're still her enemy."

"Well then, that's what I have you for."

Mara turned to glare for a few seconds, but Luke only smiled, and she knew there was nothing she could say that would dissuade him. "You're missing a tooth, you know that?"

"Can you tell when I talk?"

"No, not really, it's too far back. Only when you smile." Mara shook her head wryly, leaning back against him again. "Seriously, you're worried about a tooth? Have you seen what you look like?"

He moved against her, and she heard the rasp as he rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "I know I need a shave."

Mara shook her head at the subtle shift of subject. "Yeah, 'cos that'll sort it out."

She paused…but she may as well get it over with, whilst he seemed in an amenable mood. "And speaking of sorting things out, when were you going to tell me about your sister?"

Luke tensed slightly against her, though when he spoke, the exasperation in his voice was clearly feigned. "People are talking _way _too much around here."

"Actually she didn't tell me," Mara said without turning. "I worked it out. The holo on your desk…it's your mother, isn't it?"

For a moment he remained silent. Even now, with her, he still avoided intimacy, instead deflecting it with humor. "I hope between all your rummaging through my personal holos…"

"You have one."

"You only found one?" Mara nudged him at the affected mix of surprise and relief in his voice, and he grinned, settling back as he returned to the point. "So in between _not _finding all my personal holos…"

"One of them'd better be of me."

"In between that, did you actually open up that document I told you to?"

"You know, I can't help but reflect on how typical it is that you're more willing to talk about State secrets than you are about your personal holo collection."

"I was just wondering how you knew about the talks with the Alliance."

"You were already talking to Leia, and that whole 'Draw the Rebel leaders into a trap' thing was way too neat and plausible. I just reapplied 'Luke-logic' to it. That, and the fact that Leia told Nathan."

"So you didn't open the file?"

Mara still stared straight ahead, at the far wall, uncomfortable. "You said open it if something happened to you…well, you're still here."

"You're telling me you didn't read it when I'd given you the code?"

"Did you really think I would?"

She felt him turn slightly to look at her. "Mara Jade, did you not read it because you were getting _superstitious?"_

"No!" She let out the word in a rough, dismissive laugh.

"You did!"

"Hey, I'm pregnant! I'm allowed leeway!"

He settled back again. "Okay, I'll give you that one."

"One? I get to use that for the next six months."

"Yeah..." he said, apprehensively, and she turned to study him.

"Worried?"

"No…" He smiled at his own bravado. "Yes. Just…you know, the fatherhood stuff— worried about whether I'll be a good role model."

"Role model?" Mara laughed. "Luke, you're the Emperor!"

"I didn't mean that," he dismissed out of hand. "I mean…a good father."

"For him, you will be."

He looked away again. "You don't know that."

"I do," she said, absolutely sure. "Because I know you—and so does your sister. Leia said…"

"She's wrong," Luke said categorically, clearly with more force that he'd meant. He sighed, looking down. "I can't change what I am, Mara."

"People can change—I did. Or do you think I'm the same woman who would back Palpatine now?"

He pulled her back down, and she nestled against him as he spoke. "No. But then, I think you always were this person. You didn't change, you just had to…find yourself."

"Well maybe you've always been Luke Skywalker. Palpatine didn't change you, Luke, you just have to…"

"Find that out again." He smiled at her tenacity, but she heard the brittleness behind it, the weariness as he prepared to throw himself back into the fray again.

He was, as ever, that same complex contradiction of inconceivable power and genuine conscience, Mara knew. But he was balancing on a knife-edge, a position he couldn't possibly maintain. Something had to change—something had to give. It had always been Luke, Mara realized—she'd always expected it to be. Ever since that hotheaded Rebel pilot had arrived on Coruscant, she'd continually expected him to simply adapt to his new life. But then he seemed always so fluid, so capable, so resilient.

Well now it was her turn…and when it came right down to it, it wasn't hard at all. What had he said to her once? That it was all about recognizing what you wanted—what really mattered to you—and accepting what you had to do to gain it.

Because if she said this, she had to mean it, Mara knew. She had to be absolutely prepared to back up her words…and she finally was. The last few weeks had clarified for Mara what was _truly _important; had taken all those ambitions and expectations which were left over from a past before she'd ever even known Luke, and percolated and clarified them with devastating effect.

And so she truly, truly meant it:

"Let's leave. Let's just leave now. Nathan's already gone, Leia and Han will be gone in another hour—we could just take a shuttle and head for open space. To hell with the Empire. Leave it. Give it to Leia Organa if that's what you want. Give it to Kiria D'Arca. I don't care anymore."

She felt his chin move slightly from where it rested against her temple, the stubble sharp and gritty and wonderfully reassuring in its imperfection.

"And leave everything behind?"

"Everything. We don't need it."

"Your past, your Palace…your Emperor?"

She shook her head, completely, utterly sure. And how incredibly easy it was, to be this sure—how _right_. "It's just stuff. Just baggage. It's not _you_. You're what I want—to hell with the rest."

A slow, gentle calm rolled over him like a heatwave, warming him clean down to his bones as tense muscles relaxed against her, the quiet peace radiating from him wonderfully infectious to Mara's senses. She smiled as she wrapped her arms and her thoughts tightly around him. Nothing was worth more to her—nothing.

"Look at that." She smiled, eyes blurring with tears which she blinked away. "Still growing."

"Still crazy," he murmured, but she could hear the joy in his words.

"Whatever."

He squeezed her again and she leaned into his embrace, holding tight. Which was just as well, because his next words would have floored her.

"I think maybe we should stay a while yet. I'm not done being Emperor."

She leaned back, shocked. "Stay?"

He shrugged, a shadow of a smile on his lips. "Why would I leave now—it's just getting interesting. Let's see where we can take it."

Mara sniffed away her tears, suddenly suspicious. "What do you mean… You're going to use this, aren't you—that's what this whole Serenno transfer is. You want to use it to push change through."

"I can't do it without you, Mara. You're my cornerstone—you're my strength."

Mara arched her eyebrows. "Oh, you have your own strength, Luke Skywalker."

"I trust yours more."

_Trust_. Mara felt the smile come to her lips at that; felt it settle like an embrace about her. Funny, he still had the capacity to throw her—somehow that was incredibly appealing.

He grinned, and when he spoke it was with that soft Rimworld accent that she loved. "I'm gonna change the galaxy, Mara—and you're gonna help me."

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	47. Chapter 47

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**CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN**

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The detention levels onboard the _Patriot _were clean and functional and blank, like a thousand others in the fleet, Nathan supposed. The door to the interview cell was marked by two guards, who stood to attention as he neared, his heart pounding, suddenly uncertain if he could do this. The last time he'd halted at his point, unable to go through with it, but this would be his last opportunity, one way or another, and Nathan knew he couldn't leave it like this.

Still, it was cripplingly hard to move forward as the cell door slid silently open.

Sitting at a small metal-topped table in the interview cell, Wez Reece lifted his head, eyes betraying a brief moment of surprise as Nathan stepped inside, though his tone when he spoke was loud and full of bravado. "I wondered when you'd wring up the guts to come down here, Nathan."

Hovering close to the entrance, Nathan remained tense and silent, suddenly breathless.

"Well, come in—or do you think I'll make a lunge at you?"

Squaring his jaw, Nathan nodded once to the guard, who turned to leave them alone, then walked forward with exaggerated calm and sat at the far side of the table, finally lifting his head to look Reece in the eye. "I've come to tell you what's happening, Wez. You were brought onboard the _Patriot _because we're on our way out to Serenno. Tomorrow, we take a small contingent down to the planet to formally receive the Emperor back on board. You didn't kill him. You changed nothing. I wanted you to know that, too."

Completely unrepentant, Wez shook his head as his eyes traced the surface of the nondescript table which stood between them, lost in thought. "I keep looking for the point when I should have realized, keep looking back for something… And you know, a single moment keeps on coming to mind so perfectly that I wonder if he planted it there just _knowing _this day would eventually come…"

Nathan held to a tense silence, not wanting to be drawn in.

" '_What will I do without you,'_ that's what he said to me." Wez gave a brief nod of his head as he relaxed back into his chair. "Five months ago, that's what Skywalker said to me, when I gave him the datachip of the _Sterling _that I'd copied and was smuggling back into his office. I remember it exactly. I hadn't even handed the stolen files over yet." He laughed, momentarily trailing off, lost in his own thoughts, then glanced sharply back to Nathan. "So you see, you're blaming me, and Skywalker could have stopped it all… He could have stopped it all there and then."

Nathan shook his head. "He shouldn't have needed to."

"But he could have stopped it."

"So could you."

Reece laughed again, but it had that agitated edge. "It was always me or him, wasn't it, Nathan? I gave you every chance to help me, every chance to admit Skywalker was wrong, that he was out of control. But I always knew it would come back to that: me or him… And I always knew which way you'd jump."

"In view of your actions, I find myself very proud of your certainty about that."

Reece lifted his chin. "I've done nothing I'm ashamed of. I regret only that I didn't succeed."

"Wez…"

"He's not what you think he is." The warning was undisguised, urgent almost.

"Perhaps not, but…"

"You listen to me." Wez straightened quickly enough to make Nathan jump, his voice deadly serious. "He's not what you think he is. He's a dangerous man in a position of power, because you will _never _contain him. Nobody will."

"By contain, I presume you mean control?"

"You think I did this because I wanted power?" Reece rubbed at his eyes, tired and irritated.

"Didn't you?"

"No! I did it because I wanted to see power in the right hands."

"By right, you mean those that you personally approved of?"

"Yes! The biggest mistake Palpatine ever made was to teach Skywalker how to rule—how to use and wield power to his own ends…_his own_. If no one else was guarding the tenets of the Empire, then it was my duty to do so. I did this for what I believe in."

"And what was that, Wez?"

"The Empire! The real Empire, not this—this weak, half-hearted collective where we negotiate with Rebels to…"

"And what were you doing, in passing information to Madine?"

"I was _using _them! Using them, that's all, to remove an Emperor who was flawed."

"Flawed?"

"Yes! Nathan, he's dismantling the Empire a piece at a time—he's giving away every strength and advantage we have."

"He's reinstating freedoms that should never have been revoked."

"He's taking apart all that made us great—knowingly. Intentionally." Wez shook his head. "I didn't want power, I never once wanted that. But I wanted to see someone in power who would maintain the Empire as it _should _be."

"So you were removing him to put Mara on the throne? She was the next in line…"

"Yes! I was putting a staunch Imperialist on the throne. Someone who had already proven their worth, who had dedicated her life to upholding the values of the true Empire. Someone who had the drive to maintain it as it was at its height and a reason to turn on the Rebels…"

"You thought…" Nathan sagged in realization—it all made a terrible, sick sense. "You thought that if you sold Luke out to the Rebels and they killed him, she'd turn on them. That's why you gave him over to Madine, because you knew Madine would kill him outright when Leia Organa probably wouldn't."

"She followed Skywalker because she was a loyal Imperial, like me, but she'd eventually have realized; she would have known with a soldier's eye that Skywalker's actions had only ever weakened the Empire—would have had that fact proven to her, by his death. There'd be no _treaties_, no dividing of power or diluting of tenets. She would have reversed its slow corruption, she would have listened to me."

"And what about when she stopped listening? What about when she started to follow her own choices, when her decisions failed to live up to your exact requirements, Wez? Would you have removed her too, just as coldly?"

Wez glanced down, mouth a hard line. "There are others… Those who still have that purity of vision, who understand the institution that the Empire embodies, the importance of that authority and stability. Those who know what's necessary to maintain it. Ideals worth following."

Nathan shook his head. "Don't you see, Wez; you're still trying to take power, you're simply trying to do it from behind the throne. You're putting the person _you _want on the throne…the person who fulfills your personal idea of…"

"The person the Empire needs!"

"No, you're wrong. You're so wrong. This is just your own misguided little power trip—this is a way to hold power but still be safe, because if it goes wrong, if it doesn't live up to your expectations exactly, then it's not your fault. It's never your fault, is it? You never have to take that responsibility yourself, so you can keep on blaming someone else for your own unrealistic expectations. That Empire doesn't exist, Wez…and I don't think I'd like it if it did. I don't think I'd even be here…and I hate to disappoint you, but I don't think you would either. You said yourself that Luke knew, and you're right, he did—he'd known for months, but he did nothing because he wanted to give you every chance to redeem yourself. He wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. Do you think Palpatine would have done that? Do you think _any _leader who was driven enough to lead your ideal Empire would have given you that continued opportunity?"

"I would never have renounced an Emperor that strong," Reece said stonily. "If the true Empire still existed..."

"Your Empire never existed, Wez; it never could. It was too dependent on the foibles of Palpatine. You saw some ideal that never existed."

"It existed in the glory days, in the height of–"

"No, it never did, except in your head. If Palpatine's totalitarian Empire was so perfect, then why did you help depose him, tell me that?"

"Palpatine was old, he'd lost his way, he no longer upheld the values he'd sustained at his height. That didn't mean his theory of an Empire was unsound."

"Palpatine's Empire was a dictatorship, absolute, divine rule based on some twisted concept of Blood Royal—did you uphold that?" Nathan heard his own voice rising in frustration, though Wez held firm.

"Yes!"

"Yet you helped depose that Emperor!"

"_He _was flawed, not his ideal! Not his bloodline."

"So how does Mara represent your autocracy?"

"There _is _no true heir—no continuation of the Blood Royal. But Jade was still an Emperor's Hand; she had Sith blood! Skywalker has no more right to rule than her, no greater claim. At least Jade understands the necessity for strong leadership. She has as much of a right to sit on Palpatine's throne as Skywalker ever did."

Nathan hesitated for long seconds, knowing the truth, weighing the risks…and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and controlled. "Blood Royal, Wez."

"What?" Wez snapped.

"Blood Royal: the right to rule by bloodline, by heritage. You just said you believed that principle."

"Palpatine had no heir—he named Skywalker because he was Sith, not because he was Blood Royal."

"You want the truth, Wez? You want a real secret to take to the grave?" Nathan met Wez's eyes, deadly serious. "If you uphold Palpatine's rule of birthright by bloodline then Luke's claim, like his connection to the Force, ran in his blood."

Reece quietened, his question unspoken...and for the first time ever, Nathan dared to say it aloud. Spoke the secret he'd carried alone for so long, to the ears of a man he knew would be dead by morning. At least half of it Wez already knew; he had, after all, been there at the time.

"The day Palpatine died…you remember, it was absolute chaos. Luke was badly injured and needed major surgery, you were trying to get reliable stormtroopers down from the _Patriot _and to remove potential threats. Trying to distance any overly loyal Red Guard and to freeze the lockouts on the security and information systems before someone realized and activated them. You also had to hide the evidence of the duel…and Palpatine's body. That came to the only reliable place that it could be stored for disposal—my medi-center. Remember? When I came out from Luke's surgery, you'd already had Palpatine's body removed… But you see, by then I'd done as Luke had always ordered me to, should the opportunity ever arise: I'd taken samples—genetic samples."

Nathan shrugged beneath Wez's complete, reluctant attention, continuing quietly but without mercy. "He'd given the order years before, to check for any patrilineal link. Years earlier Palpatine had told Luke that they shared a direct blood connection, but Luke had never repeated it because he didn't believe it…didn't want to. Was horrified by the concept. By the fear that if he was of that bloodline, he'd be tainted by it. He told me just once, within days of Palpatine telling him, then he never spoke of it again." Nathan paused, studying his own hands, tightly wrapped about each other. "Time passed… Events…overtook him. Luke would never acknowledge that line of descent without proof, and with Palpatine dead and his body cremated, he believed there would never be proof. But you see, I did do those tests…and then I destroyed the data and all of the samples. That was my decision. Rightly or wrongly, I made that choice. Luke was about to come to the throne, and he was already paralyzed by self-doubt at the thought that he _might _be Palpatine's genetic heir—and so…I took it upon myself to make sure that he never had to deal with a hard truth which I honestly believe would have destroyed him."

Wez was already recoiling, knowing what was coming, as Nathan lifted his eyes. "You see, there _is _a direct, traceable patrilineal line between Luke and Palpatine. How that's possible, given what he told me, I cannot tell you—but then I can't explain so many aspects of the Force. This is just one more, both fascinating and disturbing. I could, however, predict exactly how Luke would have taken this news—and it would not have been well."

Wez shook his head in denial, voice no more than a whisper. "Skywalker was Vader's son."

"Yes, he was. Palpatine, Vader and Luke were three generations of the same genetic line, Wez. Palpatine's vision was always to create an Empire with a single, uninterrupted lineage at its head; a dynasty. Not a Sith Dynasty, but _his _dynasty. That was what his Empire was truly about—his own petty little grasp at immortality. And I won't see Luke destroy himself or his future, simply because he wants to thwart the malicious, obsessive ravings of an old man. Rightly or wrongly, I now hold that secret. I know that I have to trust that Luke will never think to seek it out within my mind, and if he did, I alone would have to answer for my transgression. But if he doesn't, I swear to you, I'll take it to my grave without hesitation, the fact that Luke is the true heir to the Empire, in every sense."

"Why didn't you tell me?" It was half accusation, half appeal.

"I might ask the same of all you held hidden," Nathan said, strangely removed from Wez's dismay now, so that when he continued it was almost an apology. "It's a solemn oath we all take, Wez. A physician never divulges information regarding his patient; Luke's medical history was part of that."

"… Blood Royal..." It was all Wez could manage.

"So you see," Nathan said evenly, "by your own actions, you were taking apart the very essence of your _true Empire_."

Wez glanced down, bewildered, all his bravado spent, and Nathan felt some spark of pity for the man whose beliefs and allegiance were hopelessly irreconcilable at the realization of this one fact.

Feeling that he had to offer some kind of solace, even here, Nathan sighed. "But that line would, I suppose, have been ensured anyway, with a new generation."

Wez looked up. "D'Arca?"

Nathan frowned. "Mara…a boy, we think."

He waited in silence for a long time, but Wez seemed to have nothing more to say—and finally, Nathan knew he himself had only one thing left to voice.

"The Emperor will be back onboard nine hours from now. I…doubt he'll be very forgiving. Not only did you place him in the way of danger, you also involved Mara and their child." Nathan searched Wez's eyes as he lifted his head. "What I do in coming here…perhaps I do it for myself, for a past that I still need to believe existed, despite everything. Not because I condone what you did in any way; understand that. But I know Luke, and I know that when he gets back, he'll come for you…" Nathan glanced away, eyes suddenly glassy. "Time to go. When I see Luke tomorrow, I'll answer for my actions here tonight…but I can't answer for yours, Wez. I thought if we spoke…" He looked down, shaking his head. "Goodbye, Wez."

Nathan rose quickly, suddenly needing to be gone, aware of Wez's eyes on his back as he stared resolutely at the door waiting for it to be opened. He never once looked back.

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With Nathan gone, Wez felt his shoulders slump as the air left him in a sigh, taking all his certainty and his bravado with it. Dispirited, he lowered his head as he ran his fingers through his hair…and his eye caught something on the table before him, where Nathan's hand had been…

It was a single pill.

He didn't need to ask what it was for.

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"This is Commander Jade onboard the Rebel vessel _Sol_, come in please?"

Nothing…again. Mara turned to Luke, who was standing a few paces away wearing civilian clothes—white shirt, tan trousers and battered brown leather boots which buckled at the ankle and knee. It was, she realized, literally years since she'd seen him in pale colors…they suited him.

What they didn't do was disguise any of his frailness as he limped across the _Sol's _hold to drop down onto a packing crate as a chair, exhausted after only a few minutes of walking through the ship. His bruises were paling but still obvious, his skin ashen in the bright natural daylight which was flooding in through the _Sol's _lowered ramp from Serenno's sun, the freighter having been planetside for less than an hour.

It had all been arranged in the last two days whilst they had been en-route to Serenno: time, ships in orbit, troops in the area… Every detail had been argued and agreed and hastily arranged for the return of the Emperor from Rebel to Imperial hands, right down to the distance which would separate the two contingents on the ground, to either end of a wide landing strip in the commercial quarter…

And then about an hour ago it had all begun to fall apart.

Mara wasn't so much surprised as annoyed. Though all the details had been argued out on amicable terms by Rebel and Imperial teams led by Nathan and Leia Organa, it was still Kiria D'Arca who led the Empire, the _Patriot _already in orbit around Serenno for a full day by the time the _Sol _had arrived…and as ever, despite this being a supposedly low-key, unannounced handover, Kiria didn't travel light.

As agreed, the Imperial contingent had nine Destroyers in low orbit—a bit of an early giveaway to the casual passer-by that something was happening, if you asked Mara. As also agreed though, the Empire had landed only three Nubian diplomatic yachts and its main Consular Ship, to the north side of the massive landing strip on Serenno, all very visibly bearing the Emperor's personal Seal, the Lorric—so called because Luke's emblem incorporated that well-recognized image of a lorric-willow wreath behind twin sabers—emblazoned across their polished hulls.

With the yachts, as agreed, were two wings of I-TIE's—one wing airborne, the other in parade-ground assembly—one wing of blastboats, and a total of 260 military personnel, also as agreed. The whole area about them had been cordoned off with military precision, and flags had been raised in neat rows—the Lorric, the Imperial Seal, the navy Jack—the Lorric still flying at half-mast as it did across the Empire, awaiting the return of the Emperor… And all Mara could think as she stared at the distant encampment from the viewpane in the _Sol's _medi-bay was, _Luke'll never walk that far._

For the Empire, this was barely a presence—certainly a considerably restrained response to the safe return of their Emperor. Still, with the _Zephyr _in orbit and the _Sol_, the only Rebel ship presently on the ground to the south side of the landing strip, and sporting a total of forty-six troopers and twenty-three staff, the Rebels were probably feeling more than a little outgunned right now.

Captain Varo had been consistently less than cooperative since Leia's departure, and Luke had voiced his suspicion more than once that Varo had at the very least, some private sympathies or loyalties to Madine. A few subtle questions on Mara's part had easily uncovered the fact that Madine's escape shuttle had chosen a route that took it nearer to the _Sol _than any other ship present—yet it hadn't been fired on.

Telling Luke that fact meant, of course, that it had all come out about Madine—that he wasn't in custody, either Rebel or Imperial—that he'd in fact escaped with over a dozen men within an hour of the _Falcon _leaving the _Wasp_. If he hadn't been so weak, Mara suspected Luke would have commandeered a shuttle and gone after the General himself, so incensed was he. The only thing that allayed her worry was his admission that he'd seriously considered it already, and decided that it really wasn't the kind of diplomatic event he was working towards here.

Instead he'd made repeated requests to speak directly with Captain Varo, who'd adamantly refused—apparently she had problems with 'some Sith rummaging through my mind.' Mara had to admit she would've been insulted if it wasn't for the fact that it was exactly what Luke had intended to do.

So all in all, it was already a shaky situation.

Then as they made orbit at Serenno, the first rumbles about this most unusual combination of starships got out onto the HoloNet—and the local holo-press arrived…in force.

By the time the _Sol _was cutting into the atmosphere above the agreed site, yachts belonging to the Great Houses of Serenno were dotting the sky…then those of the Royal Houses of Phindar and Gala, a few hours away on the Hydian Way hyperspace route. Then Bandomeer, then Garos and Sundari, then Berusa and Chaila…in fact, anywhere that was within reaching distance of Serenno.

By now, with _Home One _and the rest of the Alliance contingent still an hour away, and only the equally under-equipped _Zephyr _in orbit to back the _Sol _up, Captain Varo was past uncooperative and well on the way to panicking.

And the arguments had started. Mara hadn't been there to witness the minutiae, but she knew that Captain Varo had accused the Imperial contingent of political maneuvering. The Empire had voiced its indignation…and so on.

They could, of course, leave any time, with or without Captain Varo's permission. Even in this state, Mara was pretty sure that Luke could have ramped it up sufficiently to get out of there at a push…but this was diplomacy, and apparently running roughshod over your deliverer's military protocols and the pre-arranged schedule was bad form, Mara reflected dryly.

Which didn't, as it turned out, seem to stop Captain Varo.

A full three hours before the agreed time of the transfer, with _Home One _not even in orbit yet, Varo's Aide had come down with a detail of four Rebel guards to tell them that they were to go now.

Which was why they were sitting in the hold just out of view of anyone outside the ship, gazing out over the long strip of dark permacrete and preparing to make that long walk to the Imperial contingent—who, because Mara couldn't raise them on her comlink, had no idea they would even be on their way.

Therefore no Imperial honor guard to accompany the Rebel soldiers, no crowd control, and no protection. Just she and Luke…and those growing crowds outside, as word spread among the populous that _something _was going on, though Sith knew how.

Commander Werth, the senior officer of the _Sol's _task force, was speaking quietly to the four armed soldiers who were clearly going to accompany them on the long walk across the landing strip, giving last-minute orders.

Mara walked casually over to the still-seated Luke, who was watching Werth just a little too closely.  
"Varo wants us out now because she thinks she can control what's seen if she does," he murmured quietly, eyes still intent on the back of Commander Werth's head. "We get four armed guards."

"Barve," Mara sniped with feeling, glaring at Werth.

"No, he's just panicking because he's responsible for this and it's getting out of hand. It's Varo who's changing things, as far as Werth sees it. She's the one looking to make us walk out alone down that landing strip, with armed Rebel soldiers to either side of us. I'm guessing she wants this to look like some kind of prisoner-handover, like the Alliance is making some kind of concession."

"With all that hardware in orbit and on the far side of the landing strip?" Mara asked, doubtful.

"Yeah, but no one's gonna _see _that when they show the images of the Emperor walking alone down that permacrete runway. They're just gonna see a single man making a solitary walk down a wide, empty walkway. No honor-guard, no trappings, nothing."

Varo was, Mara realized, working to her own private objectives here. She was looking to undermine the office of Emperor, using the Holo-press images to reduce the unassailable Emperor to a very ordinary stature, injured, isolated and unsupported, surrounded by Rebel soldiers and marched across the landing strip like a prisoner.

"We could refuse to go?" she suggested, aware of the ominously silent crowds beyond the _Sol _and knowing damn well that Varo was intending to send the Emperor out there before his Imperial Guard could arrive—_that _was why her comlink was being blocked.

There was humor in Luke's quiet voice. "Yeah, 'cos getting physically forced out onto the runway always looks good. That's the image we're going for here."

Mara smiled just slightly, looking back to her comlink. "Well, let's see if we can at least get our own guards to meet us halfway, since they..."

"No, wait." Luke reached out to push her hand down. "If we can't get them here for the beginning I'll do the walk with none at all."

Mara glanced quickly up. "Luke, this isn't Coruscant, we don't know what the crowd out there is like. It could get ugly very, very quickly this far out."

"It had to be this far out. If it had been closer to the Core Systems or the Colonies, people would have said it was a publicity stunt. It had to be a backwater world."

Mara frowned, still wary. "There are a _lot _of people out there, and you don't know how they'll react, or have any control over this situation. That's what Varo is banking on and you know it."

Luke shook his head, adamant. "One way or another, Varo's made sure we start this walk without Imperial guards. If we have them meet us halfway, it looks like a prisoner handover, or like we were unprepared—or worse, that we're expecting trouble. I can't use any of that. I came here to say something, and I'm sure as hell not gonna be end-run and have that taken from me by some second-rate freighter Captain with a grudge to bear."

The _Sol's _remaining soldiers trooped through the hold on their way outside, sparing curious glances at Luke, who stood, not wanting to be perceived as weak, even here, Mara knew. She watched them step out into the bright sunlight and begin to spread out, and realized what they were doing—that the crowds had become so great that Werth had seen fit to use his men to try to keep them back. Squinting, Mara risked taking a step or two closer to the ramp, to see the crowds. There were twice as many as when they'd entered the hold, and she'd been worried at their numbers then. More worryingly, they stood in unsettling silence, eyes on the freighter's open ramp.

She backed up, apprehensive. "Seriously, I'm not sure we should…"

She broke off as a soldier ran forward across the bay, and Mara saw what had been holding this up: in his hand, he held a walking stick. Commander Werth took it and walked quickly to the Emperor, seeming almost embarrassed as he held out the stick. "Uh…you…seem to have trouble walking…Sir."

Luke looked at the stick for long seconds, his voice cool. "I'm fine, thank you."

Mara knew why he wouldn't take it—but she also knew how weak he still was. "Luke…"

"No, absolutely not."

"You won't make that walk without it."

"I'll damn well walk out of here."

Werth squirmed. "Sir, I'm instructed not to let you leave the ship without it."

Scowling, Luke took the stick—and Mara couldn't believe that the man seriously thought that it would make it even as far as the end of the ramp in Luke's possession. Still, this was it. They were up and moving, their Rebel guards stepping out first and waiting expectantly.

Luke leaned in to Mara as he set forward. "When you get to the end of the ramp, slow down and hang back," he murmured. "Let's see how much we can spread our guards…make them seem a little less like..."

"Guards?" Mara asked dryly.

Stepping to the end of the open ramp, Werth gestured with his hand. "…Sir?"

They set forward and, with no ceremony whatsoever, they were out, bright daylight warming Mara's skin for the first time in weeks, making her flinch even as she tried to keep her eyes on the crowds, a mass ten deep of curious eyes and still faces—and absolute silence.

She didn't even have a gun. If someone lunged forward from the crowd…

Her thoughts were brought back to the moment by the clatter of the walking cane Luke had been given, falling away as he stepped out onto the ramp.

Watching those crowds, it was a hard thing to force herself to slow back out of reach of him, so that Luke stepped alone down the wide walkway, struggling to suppress his limp. But the four soldiers, uncertain what to do, widened their positions in an effort to stay with them both.

They walked through the crowd in eerie silence, nobody moving or making a sound, as Mara's heart pounded so loud that she was sure the hushed crowds could hear it. She looked down the long, wide strip of dark permacrete as mute, serious faces leaned in from either side. The distant Imperial ships were eight, maybe ten minutes' walk…too far.

From the corner of her eye, Mara saw the small object thrown from somewhere near the back of the crowd towards Luke—

Reaching out with the Force, she almost made to deflect it, sensing a flare of focused power as Luke did the same… But just as Luke did, she stopped at the last moment as she recognized it, and it fell to the ground before his feet, drawing everyone's eye.

A single branch of lorric—the same laurel which embellished Luke's own flag—lay bright green against the dark permacrete.

Surprised, Luke glanced momentarily into the crowd, but walked on. Then another branch was thrown, landing on the permacrete before him…then another. Then a flower, intense yellow, fell on the dark ground of the wide path. The woman who threw it stood to the front, behind the barrier of Rebel soldiers, and Mara watched, amazed, as Luke looked to her, still walking slowly on. Staring in silence, the woman lowered her head in a half-bow.

A second scarlet flower landed close by—then another lorric branch… Then, as Luke slowed to glance again into the crowd, someone began to clap.

Then another person, then another.

Then someone was bold enough to shout out their encouragement.

Slowly, as a tide turning, the crowd began to shout and cheer, and more and more lorric branches and flowers began to line the path as their Emperor walked slowly on, an intense perfusion of bright laurel green against the dull black permacrete, so many that they eventually began to cover the stark road…

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_Home One _came out of hyperspace into Serenno's high-orbit, the Rebel Alliance's leading Council, military and civilian, having gathered in the Council chamber in preparation to be shuttled down to the surface for the return of the Emperor to his own people in—Leia glanced to the chrono on the curved wall—two and three-quarter hours' time.

She turned to Han standing beside her, starched and smart in his best uniform. "We're late," she murmured, smoothing her own diplomatic gown.

Han turned to the chrono. "No, we're two and three-quarter hours _early_. Plus these things never start on time anyw—"

He never finished. Commander Sumar and Tag Massa came bursting into the room. Tag headed straight for the HoloNet link and activated it, and Leia turned to Sumar, the Comm Chief, as he mouthed, breathless, "HoloNet…"

Everyone twisted about as the image flashed up in a flare of static.

_"…repeat, you are seeing these images live from Serenno in the Outer Rim, where a massive Imperial presence is building up, both in orbit and planet-side, and we have sources saying that the Emperor is here…"_

"Wait…_what_!" Han said.

"Is this now?" Leia stuttered. "What's going on, is this now?"

Tag looked to Leia. "This is going out live over the HoloNet right now…it's on twelve channels and rising."

"Get Captain Varo on the comm. Who's the ground officer?"

General Cotta spoke up. "Would that be Commander Werth—is he attached to the _Sol_?"

"Get him on a comlink."

"Look!" Han said, eyes locked on the holo-link.

The remote lenses zoomed shakily in from an aerial view of the landing strip where the event was due to have taken place almost three hours from now…and emerging from the _Sol_, with just four soldiers about them, were two figures—a man followed closely by a woman…with a flare of copper-red hair.

_"We think…can we get a confirmation on this? We're trying to get closer now. We actually think you're seeing live images of the Emperor coming from an unidentified—possibly a Rebel—vessel, the first time he's been seen since his abduction…"_

Beside Leia, Tag stiffened. "With your permission, Ma'am, I'll take a detachment and head down to the _Sol _now."

"Quickly," Leia said, unable to take her eyes from the HoloNet images.

It was Han who voiced the question everyone was starting to wonder as he leaned in, trying to make sense of the slightly blurred images, zoomed in from long-range. "Why is the permacrete changing color?"

"Look," Cotta stepped closer, "you can see it changing…"

"Is that…?" Han too squinted. "Where are they getting the _laurels _from?"

"Does it matter?" Rieekan asked.

Turning back to the HoloNet, Leia suppressed a smile.

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Luke glanced to the side, realizing that the crowd was beginning to deepen as those whom he had first walked past outside the _Sol _began running along the back of the twenty-deep throng to keep pace, the surreal scene unfolding about him as he walked on slowly, his back beginning to straighten, gaining strength from the support of the crowd, in spirit if not in body. And still more flowers and laurels were being thrown, an ever-denser carpet of verdant color.

The Rebel soldiers who had been sent out in force from the _Sol _to control the crowds were struggling to hold them back now, people clapping and shouting, arms reaching out through the soldiers, jostling them forward.

And that carpet of fresh leaf green was spreading ten or more feet before them, scattered with bright flowers and the pale creamy blossoms of the lorric.

A woman leaned out, calling out to him but being held back by the struggling Rebel guards.

Luke slowed and turned as she held out a flowering lorric branch, smiling proudly. "Please, Excellency?"

Smaller than he, with short, auburn hair, she had a warmth to her smiling eyes which lit her whole face as he moved toward her, ignoring the soldiers entirely as he walked between them, his attention on her alone.

"What's your name?" Luke asked easily, his smile pulling at still-healing scars.

"Meshelle, Excellency. My name's Meshelle." She beamed as she said it, ducking her head slightly, no idea whether to bow or not, just excited; proud to be there, to be talking to him.

Luke took the branch, nodding, and as she reached tentatively out to him he smiled again, heartfelt and unguarded, and took her hand in his. "Thank you, Meshelle. I will always remember you."

The press auto-lenses swooped in, jostling for position as he enclosed her hand within both of his own for a moment, the image fed live onto the HoloNet.

Then the Rebel guards closed quickly and she was pushed back into the crowd, already lost…

"Excellency?" A soldier, one hand pressed over his ear to hold out the noise of the crowd as he listened to a comm feed, held his hand out, indicating the lorric branch.

"It's just a laurel branch, do you really want to take it from me?" Luke asked easily. "Do you intend to start a riot over something this trivial?"

The soldier hesitated then held out his hand, apologetic almost. "I'm sorry, Sir, I have my orders…if you please?"

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On _Home One_, surrounded by the Council, Leia was horrified. "No—who gave the order to take the laurel?"

General Dean, having finally gotten through to the Sol, sighed behind her. "Commander Werth told his soldiers not to let the Emperor take anything from anyone in the crowd."

"No!" Leia said again, shaking her head as other voices began to speak out about her, already realizing that this was turning into a media event. "Contact them now—tell them not to take it from him."

"This is bad…"

"Too late."

"Get him away from the crowd…"

On the live HoloNet image, shot by auto-lenses from almost above the crowd, the Emperor handed the branch over, head tilted to one side as if in amused allowance, then turned calmly away. The crowd hissed and booed at the guard's actions as the Emperor walked on, allowing himself to be politely but firmly encouraged to a central position away from the crowds by the Rebel soldiers. A second set were falling in on either side now, separating him from the swelling crowds completely, though he seemed oblivious to the mounting security. After a few moments, the Emperor lifted his hand slightly just level with his chest—and the crowd went wild.

There, being twisted between his fingers, was the flowering tip of the lorric branch he'd been given, broken off as he'd spoken with the guard.

The exultant cheers of their approval echoed around the Council Room onboard _Home One_, everyone gathered about the HoloNet, their voices mingling in dismay behind Leia as she only half-listened, her attention on the live images.

She knew Luke…and as a member of a Royal House herself, she knew that anyone in his position would, by now, have long familiarity with this kind of massed crowd. She also knew his ability and willingness to manipulate his image to his own advantage. She'd warned them not to do this when it had been suggested early on in the negotiations by Commander Odig—not to try to use him. Warned them they were playing a master at his own game.

The HoloNet cut to an aerial view as the crowd surged forward, becoming harder and harder to hold back, so that what was once a wide, empty walkway probably intended by Captain Varo to emphasize the smallness and isolation of the Emperor, had become a narrow strip thick with thrown lorric and flowers in jewel hues, the hovering press lenses pulling back in order to show the heaving masses as they closed in behind the small entourage or ran to keep pace, their numbers increasing with every minute as anyone who could get there by any means seemed to be arriving, speeders and swoops taken close to the edge of the crowds then seeming to be simply abandoned by their occupants, skiprays and hoppers dotting the sky, the atmosphere energized.

"A hundred channels," Han said, grinning.

Leia half-turned. "What?"

"The live broadcast—Sumar just said it's being transmitted on over a hundred separate HoloNet channels now."

"What have we done?" Odig murmured, face in his hands.

"Congratulations, Commander," Leia stated dryly. "You've created the galaxy's first democratically endorsed Emperor."

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Mara walked ten paces behind Luke, aware of the spontaneous excitement of the crowd, at once terrifying and exhilarating and awe-inspiring.

Despite his worsening limp, Luke walked with his head high and his back straight, taking his time. He played the game as he always had, responding to the crowds, putting forward the image they so wanted to see and he _knew _it. Despite everything, irrespective of his clothes and his limp, his battered face and his slow step, he was absolutely, unapologetically _the Emperor_—and the crowd loved him for it. Still, Mara was beginning to panic as the walkway before them narrowed to a green-carpeted path, the small contingent of Rebel guards from the _Sol _augmented by other, unknown soldiers in Rebel uniforms, now forced to link arms to hold back the crowd, hard-pressed to keep the path ahead open as people surged closer, arms reaching out between the guards to brush at their Emperor's clothes as he passed.

Finally the Imperial encampment was in sight, the gleaming Nubian transports reflecting the sunlight, Luke's Imperial crest of lorric wreaths emblazoned on them. The beleaguered Rebel soldiers gave way to Imperial Guards already forming up in sufficient number to provide an organized barrier three-deep, holding the crowds at bay up to the start of the fenced encampment.

No longer bothering to hide his limp, Luke quickened his pace just slightly to reach the Imperial enclave as the crowd became near-uncontrollable, Mara just passing through the perimeter gates as they closed completely, remote cameras pulling back to take in the massed scene, sending it to every planet in the Empire.

Luke paused for Mara to walk level with him, but she shook her head infinitesimally; this was his moment and he should take it alone. He winked once at her, incredibly boyish and mischievous in the moment, as if his best trick was yet to come. Then he turned again to walk slowly and confidently through his guard, hastily assembled when the Imperial encampment had realized that their Emperor was already on his way.

Scarlet-clad Royal Guard formed the front line of the huge honor-guard, ten-deep in stormtroopers. Further back behind the main Consular Ship were the Royal Yachts of any House close enough to attend the impromptu event, dozens more crowded into the sky above the cavalcade to show their support for their Emperor.

Nodding, Luke walked slowly through his own troops, giving them the same gracious attention he'd afforded the crowds, though Mara could see that his breath was shorter now, what reserves he'd had failing. Imperial representatives and members of the attending Royal Houses bowed low as their Emperor approached. From somewhere, an Aide appeared with a formal, styled jacket—one of Luke's own—and he shrugged it on, but didn't fasten it.

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Onboard _Home One_, many Counselors were not able to look anymore, turning away in dismay. Others were tied to the screens in morbid fascination, the sound of the crowd still deafening, so that excited local reporters—the only ones on hand for the event—had to shout to be heard.

"Get on the ship," someone whispered behind Leia, hurrying him on. "Get on the damn ship."

"He's not that stupid," General Hart said. "He'll milk this. Hell, I would."

Other Department Chiefs and Council members joined in now, voices low with apprehension.  
"No…get on the ship."

"Can we stop him? Can we cut the broadcast?"

"Are you insane!"

To the front of the Imperial enclave, before the impressive backdrop of that massive Consular Ship and multiple Nubian yachts bearing the Emperor's insignia, a suspiciously pre-prepared dais had been hastily assembled, and Leia watched the Emperor pause as he stepped onto it, the crowds behind the barriers still cheering wildly as the remote news lenses zoomed in.

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Luke could hardly fail to miss Kiria D'Arca, dressed, unusually, in a flowing white gown but with a long, crimson tabard of richly embroidered velvet over it, the ruby encrusted coronet she'd worn at their wedding setting off her striking formal dress. She stood straight-backed and smiling proudly on the dais, a few dignitaries behind her; no military in the group, Luke noted as he stepped up.

He turned to look for Mara, glancing over the heads of the stormtroopers, and the crowds roared as he came into view again on the dais, the surge of noise amazing.

Kiria smiled just slightly and, to the cheer of the massed crowds, did nothing more formal than kiss the Emperor lightly on the cheek. As she leaned in, he heard her quiet whisper in his ear: "Speak to them…don't say this isn't what you wanted."

He glanced down as her hands, resting against his collar when she'd leaned in, clipped a tiny pick-up mike there. From within the ship a public address system had appeared, hurriedly activated.

Kiria smiled just slightly. '_I told you—perfect partners,'_ she mouthed without speaking, eyebrows raising expectantly over teasing eyes as she stepped back.

Luke held her eyes as he hesitated for a second, then turned and lifted his hands to speak, though in the moment, he was forced to begin three times before the crowds silenced, an expectant hush falling over attentive faces. Abruptly Madine's words came to mind, spoken with such contempt in the cell onboard the _Wasp_:

"_Sticks and stones'll break my bones but words'll never hurt me. Let's try that out, shall we? You can have the words, I'll have the sticks, and we'll see who bleeds first."_

But it wasn't who bled first that counted—and Luke would take the words every time. Because he'd long since learned they had a power all their own.

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"I am indebted to you, every single one of you. You have restored my faith and my hope for the future… Today, I see free beings of all beliefs standing together. I see Rebel soldiers who came to the aid of an Emperor—I see Imperial soldiers and citizens proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with them. You are _all _the Empire—this is the Empire _you _have created, the Empire you continue to create, and you should be justly proud of your efforts."

The tumult within the massed crowds rose in a swell, forcing Luke to pause again until it slowly subsided.

"Today begins a new era of tolerance. We are not so very different, those of us who stand here. That my abduction incited outrage from both Rebel and Imperial viewpoints is a humbling notion, a reassuring one…an inspiring one. Because we are all members of the same galaxy; we believe in the same things, the same inalienable rights, the same unacceptable practices. We are all outraged by the fanaticism of the few, and encouraged by the tolerance of the many. If there is one thing we can all carry forward from this event, let it be that. Let it be the knowledge of our own diversity within our shared aspirations toward integrity, whoever we are and whatever we believe.

"Like the Empire, the Alliance is not the single entity the past would have us assume. Like the Empire, it is a collection of many views and tolerances. Many hopes. The treatment of one man, broadcast to many, clarified those beliefs, and just what we were prepared to do to maintain them—and what not. It reminded us all what it is that we struggle toward…justice, compassion, tolerance—the very essence of freedom. At the end of the day…it was soldiers from the Rebel Alliance who reached me first. Soldiers from the Alliance who came to my aid, risking their lives in the true spirit of that which they believe: integrity, equality…justice. They saw something in this new Empire which was worth fighting for...a chance for change. Regardless of old enmities and past deeds, they came because they saw something in this evolving Empire that they were willing to give their lives to help perpetuate. They saw hope. They saw a future. One which we can all pass on to our children. One without war or divisions, one without past prejudice or future intolerance. They saw the Empire I am building—the Empire _we all_ build, every hour of every day. A future that we have all laid the foundation for, by our actions in the past weeks.

"Today is the culmination of months of negotiations between the Empire and the moderates of the Alliance. The clarification that even within the Rebel Alliance, the militant few cannot stamp out the voice of reason. I was abducted to derail those negotiations, to curtail the announcement of open talks between the Moderate Alliance and the Empire, and to induce yet another escalating cycle of hostility and bloodshed.

"But they did not stop it. They cannot stop it…because it is in the hearts and the hopes of everyone here… A united Empire, joined for a single purpose, looking toward a single goal. Democracy. I will call no man my enemy if his mind is open. I will call no man my enemy if he listens, and debates.

"To those among us who will claim that we are too different in our views, that we cannot work together and achieve anything, I am here today as proof that we can. I am here today because we already have. The differences we have are in our minds, not our hearts. The differences we have are an asset to be praised and the tolerance we show is the ultimate strength.

"We have, so many of us, lost so much to this war. Watched the future which we were so sure was ours, stolen away forever. We have cursed it and we have railed against it on both sides of the divide, though we knew deep down that we only fed the fire in doing so."

Luke shook his head, looking out into the massed crowds. "I will feed it no longer. In tribute to all those who have given so much, willingly or unknowingly, _I will feed it no longer_. I will not serve the ends of the zealous few, and I will ask no other to do so in my name.

"We have a long and hard path ahead of us in this quest, but I hope...I _intend _one day soon, to stand before you announcing a new ethos, a new way. Self-rule, the innate right that each of you has, to determine who will govern the Empire that you help to build. I _believe _that you will make this possible. That we will all take that hope and shape it into reality.

"You have restored my faith when it faltered, and I thank you all for that. You should be justly proud of your actions—you should tell your children with pride of your part in the making of a free and just Empire."

He paused, the silence hanging in expectant anticipation. "I will take forward with me the memory of this moment. Everything else pales into insignificance."

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The cheers of the crowd outside rolled in a swell through the hull and the corridors of the Rebel freighter _Sol _whilst those gathered about the Ops room watched the live feed on the HoloNet, hearing that cheer all over again with a few seconds' delay as it was broadcast across the galaxy.

Having landed just minutes before with the _Zephyr _and the _Paaliaq_, Tag Massa had been too late to do anything but board the _Sol _and watch with the grouped senior officers, aware that she was seeing history in the making, close enough to be part of it yet still, ironically, gathered round the HoloNet projector with everyone else.

In the image, the Emperor bowed slightly but formally, before standing for a few moments in acknowledgement of the crowd, his ever-supportive wife beside him, a scarlet tabard covering the pure white which she'd claimed she would wear until his safe return.

Finally, he turned and walked into the consular ship, the perfect rows of Imperial troops filing in behind him as the rows of Lorric pennants rose to full-height. Smaller fighters began to lift off to run cover as the heat-haze from the Consular Ship's engines rippled the air, fluttering the rows of flags behind it.

In the _Sol's _Ops room the officers about Captain Varo stood in mute silence, watching images of the ships taking off in perfect parade-formation, intercut with long pans over the crowd who chanted and yelled, unwilling to disperse, still high on the massed atmosphere.

"Well, that was a disaster which just kept gathering momentum," Varo said at last, disgusted.

Beside her, the blond-furred Caamasi captain of the _Paaliaq_, Ateya, glanced briefly to her before turning to the other officers present as if she hadn't spoken. "Was he serious—the Emperor just made a very public offer to come to the table with the Alliance."

"Who exactly are the _Moderate Alliance_?" Commander Dietz asked.

"I would imagine that would be us, Sir," Tag supplied, offering subtle guidance, as ever, quietly eager to circulate the facts as soon as possible. "A differentiation, perhaps, between ourselves and General Madine's faction."

"Did we record that?" Ateya asked, eyes still on the holoscreen. "Go back—he said months of negotiations, didn't he?"

"I believe you may wish to speak to the Council about that, Sirs."

Everyone turned and Tag glanced down, the perfect picture of studied consideration and understated confidence. "Chief Organa has already had several meetings with the Emperor towards this goal, as the Council is aware."

"…What!" Shock gave Dietz's voice volume.

Tag turned coolly on him, neatly deflecting the blame, as it had always been her remit to do, from the woman who she knew would lead the Alliance in this as no one else could. "You should understand, Sir, that I advised her against making the facts known too early, for obvious reasons. The decision was made on both sides to wait until some form of universal acknowledgement could be made. It seems the chair has been very publicly pulled out for us to sit."

Ateya raised her snout as she turned dark, glassy eyes on Tag. "How long have they been in talks?"

"Sufficiently long that I believe the Emperor is genuine in this offer."

"This is outrageous," Varo declared tersely.

"Outrageous? This is surely what we've always sought, Captain Varo—or am I wrong?"

"We're actually even considering speaking to him based on this…this publicity stunt!"

"Is it though?" Ateya remained the voice of reason, as Caamasi so often were. "Remember the Fondor Shipyards…the release of all our troops? What did he claim at the time that it was?"

"A public statement of Imperial intent," Commander Pierce said levelly, eyes remaining on the images as the noise of the nearby crowds still filtered through the ship. "That's what he said at the time. I was there, listening, when he spoke to Chief Organa."

"Chief Organa had already spoken more than once to the Emperor by that point, on behalf of the Alliance. I suppose it does no harm now to tell you that Chief Organa had told him that she was looking for a gesture, made in good faith. All things considered, I believe that it's our turn to provide such an undertaking now. Our turn to prove that we are more than blinkered extremists." Tag glanced to Varo, her inference clear.

"I say we should talk," Dietz said decisively.

Varo turned on him. "This is ridiculous—intolerable."

"What, the chance to end a three-decade-long civil war?" Pierce asked.

"The fact that a few smooth words and empty promises can turn your heads so easily."

"Words cost nothing," Captain Ateya said in agreement with Pierce. "Bearing that in mind, I think we should enter talks."

Tag watched in silence, knowing that this same discussion was being echoed on every Rebel vessel in space right now, the news traveling like wildfire.

"I'll be damned if I'll negotiate with him—ever," Varo snapped, though she was clearly in the minority.

"It's your right to say that, Ma'am," Tag said levelly, laying the seeds of contention by dropping a public suggestion of the split which she knew the Emperor had always intended, stoking the fire that would instigate the separation of the tolerant many from the minority radicals. "It's also your right—and your duty—to step down if you find yourself unable to serve the views of the organization you supposedly represent."

Tag's comlink chose that moment to chime and she glanced at it, then back to the assembled officers. "_Home One's _just made geostationary orbit with Chief Organa presently aboard, Sirs—I'm sure she and the Council will field all questions, then we can do that for which we've always fought: we'll put it to the majority vote."

"Is there really anything to vote for?" Captain Ateya asked, looking round. "Isn't this what we've been fighting for all this time?"

Tag smiled just slightly, an elated buzz warming through her as she nodded her head. "I believe so, Captain, I really do. But I know the Chief, and I know she'll wish to put it to the vote anyway… Then we can begin preparations to enter into formal negotiations."

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In the safety of the Imperial Consular Ship, Luke leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, trembling with exhaustion. Kiria snapped her fingers to usher the waiting medics forward, but Luke waved them away, leaning one hand on Mara's shoulder as he walked slowly toward the medi-bay, Nathan closely attentive.

"How many, Nath?" he asked weakly without turning.

"I'm sorry?"

"How many—in the crowd?"

Nathan was silent for a moment, then, "A dozen, all near the beginning. How did you know?"

Luke shrugged. "It was a little too perfect. It felt orchestrated."

"Only to you, I assure you," Nathan promised. "For the most part, it was spontaneous. We simply provided a little impetus."

"And the foliage?" Luke asked wryly, leaning against the medi-bay examination bed, drained.

"We may have provided a few sellers," Nathan said contentedly. "Local suppliers, of course—just in case they check." He shrugged as Luke glanced to him. "I would."

Luke smiled as he finally dropped back onto the medical bed; it felt impossibly good. "Don't ever tell me you weren't born for politics, Nath."

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Mara was leaning against the far wall in the dim outer room of the medi-bay, watching through the wide plexiglass screen as Luke slept in the darkened room beyond, his hair still slick from his overnight immersion in bacta. He hated the stuff, Mara knew, but Nathan had somehow persuaded him to acquiesce, though what bribery he'd used she couldn't imagine.

Maybe it was just the medic's impressively dogged ability to wear people down, because the moment Luke was in bacta Nathan had turned his attentions back to Mara, scanning her then nagging her relentlessly until she'd let him give her a tonic shot, before ordering a 'balanced meal' delivered to her quarters and hustling her off there to rest.

Which she'd done for all of five hours…then she'd redressed and sneaked back into the medi-bay to watch Luke flinch and twitch to unknown dreams in the bacta, aware as never before of those same smoky nightmares at the corners of her own perceptions, but unable quite to either see or disperse them.

Now though, he slept quietly, the bruises and countless nicks and cuts gone as if they'd never existed, only the deeper surgery scar from the removal of the slave-chip and the deep infection of his ankle remaining. Mara tilted her head as she watched him, a smile coming to her lips…then fading as she narrowed her eyes, turning to stare at the door into the main medi-bay just seconds before it opened.

Kiria D'Arca stepped into the room, her long ruby gown rustling in the silence, subtle flickers of rose gold within the embroidery catching briefly in the light from the corridor beyond.

She was two steps forward into the darkened room before she realized Mara's presence in the shadows, turning as she started.

Mara folded her arms, head tilting. "Come to arrest me?"

It took the Empress no more than a second to regain her poise. "Why, have you done something else?"

"I thought you weren't finished from last time."

Kiria's expression cooled, but she turned away, looking instead to Luke. "Has Hallin said when he'll wake?"

Mara's eyes stayed on Kiria for a few seconds more, then she turned back to Luke. "He says a while yet."

"He looked dreadful," Kiria said with feeling before turning to Mara, tone as uncompromising as ever. "You should have gotten him out sooner."

"He got himself out actually," Mara said coolly. "We just picked him up. And we would have been there a whole lot sooner if we'd been traveling _with _Star Destroyers, not avoiding them."

Kiria turned back to the sleeping figure, unmoved. "Perhaps you should remember that next time you choose to disobey a direct order from the Emperor."

"Perhaps I should remember it when I'm writing my report of this whole incident. Which do you think I should use, _obstruct, impede_ or just plain _hinder_? Or maybe all three."

In the low light, Mara actually thought she saw a slight smile from the Empress…even heard it in her voice when she spoke. "And so on, and so forth." Kiria was silent for a long time, her eyes never leaving Luke. When she spoke, there was a rare allowance in her voice. "You did well to find him."

Mara straightened, uncomfortable. Having nothing to say to that, she finally settled back against the wall once more to watch Luke sleep for a while. When Kiria didn't leave, Mara finally allowed without turning. "I guess…the stuff you did was…appropriate."

"Did you think it wouldn't be?" Kiria said quietly. "Or did you simply hope it? I'm afraid you won't get rid of me that easily, Commander Jade. The Emperor is moving from strength to strength, and I intend to do so with him. I also intend not to add to his burden at this or any other time."

"Really," Mara said dryly, "so you're leaving then?"

"I'm speaking in terms of not wishing to bother the Emperor with the unimportant trivia of all that took place in his absence."

"Ah, is that what you're calling it now?"

"We could stand here and argue till dawn, Commander Jade, and it would only ever be dancing around the relevant discussion that must come eventually."

Mara tipped her head. "Go on?"

"The truce we have—I'm suggesting that it stays in place a little while longer."

"Interesting," Mara said vaguely, remembering Luke's confidence that this offer would come—he could be maddeningly right sometimes.

"I'm sure you'll agree that everything that's happened paves the way for a little…furthering of our entente cordiale," Kiria said smoothly.

"I thought the deal was, I got Luke back, you kept things ticking, end of deal."

"I have a new deal—and frankly I don't think either of us can afford to pass it up." When Mara remained silent, Kiria continued. "What I'm saying, is this: we each have a secret about the other…I know about the vials, and you know about what I intended that day. There's an obvious solution here, don't you agree?"

"Hey, what I did was an error of judgment. You tried to arrest me!"

Kiria turned, long lashes a smoky line over almond eyes. "And you have some proof of that fact? You know as well as I do that the Emperor will not act against an individual without tangible, legitimately binding proof. That is the Empire he's creating, and he's already illustrated just how much he is willing to suffer to uphold those values. And I believe that all of the guards who detained Nathan Hallin have coincidentally been reassigned far from Coruscant. Though I'm not certain, of course—in all the upheaval, I understand certain guard rosters were lost."

Mara nodded. "How very fortunate."

"Isn't it?"

"I don't need proof. I can just…" Mara hesitated; she'd almost said 'look into your head,' but stopped herself in time. D'Arca didn't need to know that. "I can tell Luke, and he needs only to be near you to know the truth, you know that. If he asks you face to face, do you seriously think you can lie to him?"

"What I was doing, I believed was right for the Emperor. If he chose to look into my thoughts, he would realize _that _too."

"Really?" Mara asked, looking to cut the Empress down a strip whether it was true or not. "Well then, why are you so damn reluctant to tell him?"

"I told you, I wish to avoid troubling the Emperor unduly. All you would do in bringing this up is to place him in an untenable position, because the truth is that he still needs me."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?"

"As sure as I am that, for whatever reason, he has not grown bored of his little trinket yet. Though that may change if the ugly truth came out—because the whole truth _would _come out, I promise you. His little trinket wouldn't remain untarnished. And at the end of the day, all we would have succeeded in doing is alienating the Emperor on both our parts, and providing one more proof that we're incapable of simple self-restraint—even when we're both aware that this is the most inopportune of times… Hardly a flattering image, I'm sure you'll agree."

"And Nathan?" Mara asked. "How exactly do you think Nathan will feel about this little…_deal_?"

"I have already spoken indirectly to Nathan Hallin of this, and I believe he understands the need for stability. He will, I'm sure, be quite the statesman, given time…and no matter what else, I'm beginning to realize that Nathan Hallin will always do whatever he believes is best for his Emperor."

"A pity you didn't realize that before you arrested him."

Kiria ignored the bait. "I recognize in Hallin someone who is determined to be of use to the Emperor and to the society he is building. In you…I see a bodyguard, nothing more."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you must remain, then at least try to learn to be of value to him…learn how to play the game."

"I'm guessing that a rough translation of that is, keep my mouth shut, right?"

"A little…diplomacy wouldn't go amiss either."

"And you just happen to know that kind of stuff, right?"

"If you think I'm interested in teaching you, then you're mistaken. I'm simply offering a method by which to ensure that your remaining time here will be minimally damaging on all sides. There is no need for either or both of us to go down in flames. Granted, there's every chance he'll eventually forgive us, but if there's one thing I've learned about our Emperor, it's that he doesn't trust easily—and if that trust is broken, it takes a long, _long _time to heal."

"You think you know all the angles, don't you? All those answers neatly in place."

"I think I know the society which I inhabit, Commander Jade."

"And of course, I don't?" Mara provided acerbically. "It may interest you to know that whilst you were wafting around that society you place so much store in, if you'd've had the wherewithal to look around occasionally, you might have seen me just quietly mingling. Because I didn't grow up simply _in _that society, I grew up at the very center of it—in the Imperial Palace itself. And brace yourself, but I happen to have friends in the Royal Houses too—ones I can actually trust. Ones who were brought up with and understand all the self-centered powerplays that go on in your elite little clique. And speaking of tarnishing reputations, while we were out retrieving the Emperor, my friend and I were still watching you…and she tells me that you were warming up for a coup, with all your careful removal of any opposition."

Kiria shrugged, unoffended. "I was placing certain insurances in position, yes. Anyone would have done the same in any similar situation, to ensure the smooth continuity of the Empire. Interregnums are dangerous things."

"Smooth continuity!" Mara scoffed. "With you at its head, no doubt."

"If need be. Rather me than some unknown Moff—or worse, power struggles and civil war. I could ensure that continuity more than you realize."

Mara shook her head. "Well, don't you just have an answer for everything."

Those perfect rosebud lips lifted. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

Mara's eyes narrowed, but she was tiring of this game, and the truth was, D'Arca had already conceded in putting the offer forward. "You want to compromise? You want some kind of insurance against this _particular _run of spectacularly bad decisions? Fine."

Kiria's eyes came momentarily to hers, and Mara shrugged. "Let's just say a lot of things have cleared up for me in the last few weeks, including my own future. And yours, as it happens. Luke says he needs you to hold the Royal Houses in line when the changes start happening, and if he thinks he needs you, then that's good enough for me—for now. As far as I'm concerned, you can stay."

Kiria arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "How very gracious of you."

"But understand this—I'm watching you, and the moment I think you're no longer acting like the asset he believes he needs, this deal is over. Just remember that the next time you're working on that _smooth continuity_."

D'Arca wasn't fazed in the slightest. "Then we have an understanding?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Mara said coolly. "Compromise, maybe."

Kiria turned to look again to Luke's sleeping form as he shifted slightly. "A wise man once told me that compromise was good; compromise he understood."

Mara frowned for a few seconds before realizing whom she was speaking of, and had to let out a quiet laugh. "This from the man who didn't like the way the galaxy was run, so decided to change it."

Kiria too smiled just slightly. "I suspect our idea of compromise may differ a little from his."

Mara nodded in wry agreement. "I deeply suspect his idea of compromise is, 'Everybody do what I think is best, and somehow I'll make you think it was what you wanted too.' "

Kiria nodded, amused, and Mara wondered if they had just shared another like-minded moment; that made two in the last year—she was getting worried.

She shrugged, not wishing to think about that. "I guess a little informed compromise is warranted right now, huh?"

"This is so much more than that, Commander Jade—this is how affairs of state work. We each now have a vested interest in holding our silence…and a common link. Governments and social contracts are all well and good, but this is what holds and sustains those who dictate such things. This is what drives them."

"I thought it was the common good?"

"Don't be naïve. Alliances are seldom formed on such altruistic reasons as good will. But it can slowly become that way—when one feels one can trust one's...acquaintances."

"Let's not get carried away here, shall we?" Mara said dryly.

"You will find that there's nothing cements any alliance like mutual reliance."

"Which we suddenly have, because if you rat on me, I get to rat on you, right?"

"Not exactly the words I would have used, but essentially, yes."

"And what phrase would you have used?" Mara asked.

Kiria's ruby lips lifted into the sweetest of smiles. "I would perhaps have said, welcome to the fascinating powerhouse of Palace politics, Commander Jade."

"Really?" Mara tilted her head. "I think it might be a short stay. In fact, I think that mutual truce might be over about when I finish this sentence…I'm pregnant."

Kiria blinked slowly, and Mara had the satisfaction of seeing that perfect visage of serene beauty crack just slightly before she regained control.

"I see…and the Emperor..."

"Knows."

"I see."

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Watched by the Emperor's endlessly irascible mistress, Kiria's mind raced to process this fact and analyze it past the momentary blinding burst of alarm, determined not to flounder before her adversary. Unthinkingly, she smoothed the folds of her gown, tucked a stray lock of hair back beneath the elaborate headdress she wore, all the while weighing unwelcome facts against her projected intentions…

And the game wasn't over—not yet.

The Emperor's trinket was bearing his child…an unfortunate circumstance, and since the Emperor knew, an essentially unchangeable one. But at the end of the day, she was only a mistress, and Kiria's position remained the same; she was Empress, which meant that if she bore a child, unless the Emperor specifically ruled otherwise, it would still be the legitimate heir. The whole galaxy had seen her step into her husband's role on the very day that his abduction had been made public. _She _was the one they had seen, not Jade, who had only ever worked out of sight, and disappeared completely when the truth was out, unnoticed by all. Jade's child could even be publicly acknowledged—though she doubted the Emperor would ever be so impolitic as to do that—and it would still remain of lower hereditary status than any child Kiria bore as Empress, ensuring the continuity she intended, contrary even to... A thought occurred which prompted a small, dry laugh. "So Palpatine wins by default."

Jade frowned, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"It was what he always intended—didn't you know? He said I was the perfect Empress. For all the reasons I've always claimed and Luke acknowledged, I was the ideal choice for Empress… But he said that the price for his allowing me that position would be that you bore the Heir."

Jade too laughed bitterly at Palpatine's achievement of his goals, in maneuvering all concerned into his chosen line, even from the grave. "I think Luke may have a surprise or two left for the old man yet."

"The dissolution of autocracy? True, I don't think Palpatine planned for that," Kiria allowed, amused. "I admit, I didn't know myself immediately… Oh, I thought our fresh, young Emperor would make changes when he came to power—maybe even radical ones, increasing liberties and justice in the constitution, that kind of thing. But you'll notice I didn't look too surprised standing on that dais behind him today. You'd be amazed how quickly the greater picture becomes clear when you have access to that wonderful archive bank as de-facto Head of State—even for a short while. And if he wants to bring some petty little Rebellion into line rather than simply destroy them, then that's his prerogative, of course."

"So you're still…"

"Backing him? Yes."

Jade's voice lowered warily. "So, what, do you know something I don't?"

"Very probably," Kiria said easily. "I may even know something Luke hasn't considered, in this instance. I know it because I have lived my life here, among the echelons of power, and I know what changes with greater events—and what will not. You see, whether he holds the throne or not, Luke will remain at the head of one of the most significant Royal Houses ever created. I came into this marriage bringing loyalties and connections and affiliations and support, all of which were invaluable to Luke. What he doesn't realize is just how many connections and loyalties he himself commands—whether he is Emperor or not. His influence extends now to _all _the Royal Houses, the military… This fledgling government he seems intent on creating, even it will owe its very existence to him. In his resolve to create a stable platform from which to work, he has created the most powerful, influential, all-encompassing Royal House in existence. You are thinking in very narrow terms when you think of him as Emperor, Commander Jade. The dynasty and the legacy he has created will not cease to exist simply because he takes a step back—if that is even possible."

"I think he's pretty conclusively proven that if he says something's possible, it will become so—even if he has to make it so himself."

"For once, I think you're right. But I also look at what he's done, the choices he's made, the variables he's allowed for, the options he held in reserve but never played… And I know the man. I know that he is possessed of a determination that this will be a smooth transition from absolute rule to democracy. And if that's what he intends, it may not be nearly as easy to extricate himself from center stage as he hopes. No, I think I will be admiring that same magnificent view from the balcony of my apartments in the Imperial Palace for the foreseeable future."

"I think you'll be surprised," Jade held. "If Luke wants to step down, he'll step down."

"I think the relevant word in that sentence is _if_," Kiria said knowingly.

Jade's hand came to rest subconsciously on her stomach, and Kiria glanced down incrementally. "You're wondering where your child fits into all this? Then let me tell you: it doesn't. Oh, there's room in the legacy I've just described for a mistress—there are many hundreds of such through the history of most Royal Houses…though I couldn't tell you the name of any of them. They fall back into obscurity very quickly once a legitimate heir is born."

"You seriously think he'll..." Jade shook her head, amused. "You don't know him as well as you think."

Kiria smiled gracefully, dimples settling in delicately rouged cheeks, an imperfection which she always felt added a human touch to flawless beauty. "Perhaps—but I know myself."

Unimpressed, Jade lifted her chin in defiance, every bit as fiery as her titian hair implied. "You're not the threat you think you are, Kiria D'Arca—not even nearly. You want your name in the history books? You want that title, that recognition? Take them. You want that damn precious coronet you're wearing? Fine, have it. It's just a heavy collection of cold stones that catch the light and make people look occasionally. And the kind of people who are blinded by a little sparkle are not the kind that I'm interested in impressing. It's the man I want, not his position." Jade smiled, clearly taking great delight in throwing Kiria's words, from their very first meeting, back at her right now. "You can keep the title, Excellency, I have no need of it; I have the man."

She turned to stride from the room, head high—then paused to glance back from the doorway. "That truce still in effect?"

Kiria flashed her most dazzling smile. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Because nothing had changed. Her Emperor was back in one piece. He still had his little trinket in tow—Jade may even have managed to secure a more solid standing and status than Kiria had intended—but the Emperor still needed Kiria, and so her own position remained assured. She even had a truce in place now which would protect it...and she had, of course, every intention of changing that status-quo, given time.

"As I said earlier, Commander Jade…welcome to Palace politics."

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The first thing which struck Luke when he woke was that nothing hurt. He would have remained like this, eyes blissfully closed, just savoring the moment, if he hadn't sensed Kiria's presence close by.

When he looked up she was standing attentively close, the deep ruby hue of her impeccably bias-cut gown striking in the calm, pale tones of the medi-bay.

"Welcome home," she smiled, voice velvet. "Or rather, to the _Patriot_—but then you've always considered the military more of a home than Coruscant anyway, haven't you?"

"Neither are, actually," Luke murmured, voice hoarse.

"Reticent as ever." Kiria smiled as she reached to the side table to pour him a glass of water. For a second she paused, and Luke thought she might try to hold it to his lips, so lifted himself quickly upright—too quickly as it happened, his head spinning.

He gritted his teeth, pressing the control to lift the bed behind him then holding out his hand for the glass. "News?" he prompted.

"As you hoped," Kiria said, taking her cue from his businesslike tone. "I'm sure you have your own sources who can give you more detailed accounts, but Intel sources report that the Rebel Alliance is beginning to polarize, splitting off into moderates and militants as they prepare to vote. That is what that speech was intended to do, isn't it?"

"More or less," Luke admitted. He looked sharply to Kiria. "But I also meant it."

"I'm very glad you did," Kiria said smoothly. "Otherwise your actions over the last year or so would have been rather…puzzling." Luke kept his eyes on her, and she shrugged just slightly. "Hindsight—and a week's access to all those important documents—is a useful thing."

"And you're still here?"

"Why would I not be? I told you a long time ago that I would back you in your choices."

"And House D'Arca? I'm not sure your father will be quite so steadfast."

"My father ceased to be the power behind the House D'Arca the day we married, and you well know it. We will remain your lasting allies."

"Thank you," Luke said—it would have been petty not to.

His thoughts went briefly to Mara, curious as to whether Kiria had tried to strike a deal yet, though to ask her now would have been tantamount to an admission of knowledge which would have rendered the deal obsolete. Since it appeared to be keeping the peace right now, he felt no need to push it. It would come out eventually, he was sure, but meanwhile, he fully intended to savor the tranquility.

Glancing down, Luke noticed for the first time the ring on Kiria's finger. She followed his gaze and lifted her hand, rubbing her fingers over the ring. "You'd like this back, I suppose?"

"Yes." Mara had told him what D'Arca had done when the ring had arrived, and all that it had achieved, and he didn't now want to seem ungrateful, but this was important…and with Kiria, one could leave no ambiguity. "The ring—it's Mara's, if it's not on my finger. You should know that."

Kiria lifted her chin. "She never asked for it."

"She shouldn't have had to."

Kiria tried a full-lipped pout. "And what do I get?"

"You get fifteen properties, including estates on Coruscant, Teyr and Commenor, staff to run them, protection, a generous annuity for life and my…undying gratitude."

Kiria lifted her hand to study the blue-stone. "But it is a very nice ring."

"Which isn't yours."

Smiling, Kiria slipped the ring from her finger. Still, when she handed it over, Luke could detect a trace of genuine reluctance.

"I actually did like to wear it, you know."

He took the ring, returning it to his little finger, uncomfortable in all that he asked of her. "I know."

Kiria hesitated. "And I did miss you."

Luke kept his eyes on the ring, deeply ill at ease, and seeing this, Kiria brightened with her usual indomitable manner. "I had no one to buy jewels for me."

Luke laughed just slightly, aware of what she was doing. "I'm sure you can buy your own."

"But it's not nearly as much fun as when you give them to me," she teased lightly. "And besides, I happen to think I earn them. I look on them as tangible proof of trust."

"I wouldn't use that as your validation if I were you," Luke warned gamely. "You might find yourself with less than you imagine."

"I think you'll be surprised."

"I'd be very surprised," Luke said levelly. "I've never once trusted you in the past."

Kiria smiled, redoubtable. "A new start, then?"

Luke looked down. "It may not be the one you want…Mara's—"

"Yes, I know. She told me."

Luke hesitated, and Kiria pushed on decisively.

"You still need me."

"Yes, I do," he agreed, meeting her eyes. "And you'll still stay because you think you can change me."

She flashed that perfect smile, ruby lips against warm, caramel skin. "Perhaps I'll surprise you again."

She held his eyes for a few seconds longer, then withdrew with her usual timely grace, leaving Luke alone to drop back onto his pillow, still exhausted, unthinkingly using his thumb to rotate his mother's ring about his finger as he'd always done, prizing the feeling of completeness now that he had it again.

Mara had explained already what it had gained for him, and…it would be nice to think that his mother had been watching over him through this. That in some way, her ring had helped protect him. Helped hold together the Empire that his father had created from the mire of civil war, and then granted Luke the impetus to scour from it any hint of Palpatine's involvement.

Would she approve now, he wondered? Would she delight in watching the first steps of this fledgling Empire away from autocracy and toward democracy once again? Surely so. His thoughts went to the only holo he owned of her—to that cascade of walnut hair that her daughter had inherited, amongst other traits. His father had always held that Padmé had been a good and just person…and she was part of him, just as his father had said. Just as she was part of Leia, she was part of what had made him. She too was part of his legacy. She too had saved him, in the end.

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	48. Chapter 48

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**CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT**

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Leia stood on the wide terrazzo-marble balcony of the stately Imperial Palace, its pale honey hue reflecting the midday sunlight, a strong autumn breeze flicking stray strands of hair loose from the plaited and coiled formal style she wore, tiny seed-pearl pins holding it in place. She gazed out over the breathtaking vistas, head still spinning, as much from the fact that she could stand here at the seat of government once again without fear of persecution as from the dizzying views.

It was barely three months since Luke's grand vision had been made public, and today she and other moderate Rebels had been present when the Emperor had made his formal speech opening the Peace Summit—the first time in decades that diplomats faithful to the Old Republic had been legally present on Coruscant.

In it, he'd pledged a tract of land close to the Imperial Palace at the heart of Old Coruscant which had, for almost thirty years, been a massive military barracks compound. On the very first day of talks, Luke had opened with the announcement that this barracks complex would be dismantled to clear the ground for a new civic building. He'd gone on to both offer and demand concessions as a condition to talks, and to clarify the principles, conventions and agendas that would bind all present, before he closed by voicing the hope that by the time the building was complete, those who had attended these talks today would have the honor and the responsibility to both name and nurture it.

The site had, thirty years previously, been the location of the Old Republic Senate.

Leia allowed herself a wry private smile. Her brother, she had to admit, had a flair for the persuasively, inspirationally theatrical.

And the historically significant. Because today everyone knew that they had, in effect, witnessed the creation of the new Imperial Senate.

Imperial Senate…a contradiction in terms, she mused; but then no more so than the man who had instigated it.

He stood alone now, as she'd learned in the last three months that he often did, even when surrounded by people, remaining subtly apart from those present as he leaned on the carved marble balustrade of the balcony which led out from his private quarters. They had a few hours before the official inauguration dinner was to commence, members of all parties convening for the momentous event, and she and Han had been quietly approached by the newly inaugurated Chancellor Hallin, with a very private invitation to the Emperor's residence.

Feeling slightly guilty at disturbing his privacy—not surprisingly given his life, he seemed to have developed the unique ability to emit an invisible 'leave me alone' signal—Leia nonetheless set forward to…to her brother.

As she came to a halt beside him, she noticed that he was staring thoughtfully at the small wooden box which he held, plain and unadorned and no larger than a clenched fist.

Leia smiled, leaning against the cool stone balustrade. "What's that?"

He glanced up from his reverie as if only now realizing she was there, his mismatched eyes holding a startling intensity, his face, his whole demeanor dark and withdrawn…then in an instant it was gone, like a cloud passing over the sun, and he smiled—and was instantly the pilot she'd known so well.

"Nothing." He turned the small box over in his hands as he shrugged. "Nothing important."

Leia frowned, curious, eyes going back from Luke to the box, and he smiled again, loosening the tight lid with a grinding turn and handing it over to her.

She took it and peered within…but it contained nothing more than a fine grey ash. Leia looked back to him in wordless query, but he only shrugged again.

"See—it's nothing at all."

"Then why do you keep it?"

He stared at the box for long moments…then nodded just slightly, as if some private decision had been reached. "You're right. Throw it away."

Leia glanced at the pale ash in the box once more, instinctively aware that something of great import was happening here, but unsure what it was. Watching him closely, she held it out over the edge of the balcony…

There was something in his eyes as he watched, something mischievous and tentative and wicked and vulnerable all at the same time, so that Leia frowned, uncertain. "Are you sure?"

He nodded again. "Empty it."

Leia turned it upside down and the pale ashes tumbled free, a momentary cloud which instantly scattered, carried away on the high wind.

She watched them for an instant, but it was her brother who took her attention. Some deep change came over him, his gaze, his whole body and awareness following the path of the ashes as they dispersed, the wind whipping them instantly away though he remained attentive, staring in silence as if he could still see them as they scattered. For a long time he was still, eyes on the distant skyline as the wind whipped at his hair, that shadow coming over his face again, a melancholy quietness taking him…

Then he turned sharply, and Leia felt the box in her hand fragment and disintegrate as the wood collapsed into itself as if under massive pressure, reduced to dust and splinters in a single second though not one even scratched her skin, the power and energy of the act leaving them warm in her palm. Startled, she opened her hand—and the wind took the fragments, whipping them away, the pieces too fine to follow and gone in a blink of the eye.

She stared at Luke, sure now that something of great consequence had just happened but unable to fathom what. But he smiled, and it warmed his face and his sense—she felt it quite distinctly.

"It's nothing," he reassured again. "Nothing important. Not anymore."

He turned and paused, crooking his arm in invitation, and Leia didn't need to see the ever-attentive Mara Jade's surprise to know just how hard Luke was trying. Every now and then in brief, self-conscious bursts, he tried so hard to be what he once was. Not all the time, and not always successfully; he knew that as well as Leia did. But it didn't matter—she had enough faith for both of them, and for now that was enough. Maybe he was right and he would never again be the man he'd been when Leia had lost him, but she knew absolutely that he would never be the man that Palpatine had sought so hard to create. And that too, right now, was enough.

So she smiled as she stepped forward, slipping her arm into Luke's and allowing herself to be led back into the grand drawing room where Nathan, Han and a suspiciously loosely-dressed Mara stood in easy conversation. It was an open secret, of course, though most seemed to think that the child was Nathan Hallin's. In fact, Leia was pretty sure that the only people who knew the truth were the people in this room—and Han had now managed to go a whole forty minutes without making typically indiscreet mention of the fact. Leia was proud of him.

"Hey, Kid…" About as uncomfortable as any smuggler would be in a tailored military dress uniform, Han stepped to Leia's side, fingering his high collar as he glanced to the balcony where she'd just emptied the ashes, his words betraying his close attentiveness to…well, it could have been either of them, Leia reflected. "Puttin' out the trash there?"

Beside her, Luke seemed to allow himself a private smile. "Somebody had to."

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Once, just once more, Luke allowed himself to half-turn and glance back into the darkening sky where Palpatine's ashes had dispersed—at his sister's hand, not his own. A flash-image lit his thoughts—of the vow he'd made to Palpatine in that fateful duel, hurled with such desolate fury at his father's murderer. _"Luke Skywalker would have killed you, but that's not enough for me, not anymore—you taught me that. So when I take your power I'll dedicate it to removing every single trace that you ever existed... And then I'll take your ashes and scatter them to the winds... All that work, all your ambitions, your power, your precious Sith dynasty, all reduced to nothing. Dust in the wind."_

_Dust in the wind._ He should have felt something more perhaps, at this final achievement of all that he'd pushed toward for so long, the oath he'd made to Palpatine with every fiber of his being in retribution for his father's death. He _wanted _to feel more, some sense of completion, of finality, of triumph…but his thoughts were already elsewhere—on the future and where he and Leia could take this fresh new hope, rather than the hollow fulfillment of that bitter oath. So in the end, the vow which had shaped and driven him for so long amounted to nothing more substantial than dust in the wind, scattered and diffuse and instantly gone.

Awareness of his sister's close curiosity pulled him back from darker thoughts and Luke smiled, his attention on Leia once more. "We should find you a residence on Coruscant," he said at last. "Something close to the new Senate, when it's made operational."

"We've only just started the summit and already you're planning a Senate," Leia said wryly.

Luke glanced to the balcony, knowing that far below, the first heavy construction droids were being assembled in preparation to dismantle the heavily fortified complex of military barracks which stood guard at the perimeter of the Imperial Palace. "I can see it exactly…from the main spire right down to the floor underfoot."

For some reason he didn't truly understand yet felt driven to do, he'd ordered the two halves of the stone circle which had always rested beneath Palpatine's Sunburst Throne to be taken up and stored for transportation to the new Senate which would be built in their place, in preparation to be laid in the center of the main Senate chamber, recombined into the single complete circle that Luke had briefly seen, in that vision long ago in his Master's Throne Room.

It gave him immense pleasure to know that it would remain forever at the very center of the Senate that Palpatine had devoted so much of his existence towards dismantling. Somehow, like the dark, rust red disk set within a pale cream ring, the act felt like the last circle combined and completed; the last of the prophesy fulfilled. He would, he knew, smile every time he saw it, knowing from where it had been removed. And he intended to see it a lot in the upcoming years, as the fledgling Senate formed—and for Leia to do the same.

And she wouldn't be alone; other moderate members of the Alliance Council would be with her. Others still, of a more military bearing, had already been plucked from their present Alliance positions and placed in innocuous positions within the Imperial fleet. A few years to settle everyone to the notion, and he'd be able to quietly promote them to high-ranking positions—and in doing so, create the shortcut which would enable him to break the Royal Houses' present stronghold on the upper echelons of the military.

Leia shrugged, leaning into him. "Oh, it's fine—I don't intend staying on Coruscant that long."

"No," Luke said ruefully. "Neither did I."

She was always his key player. He'd always needed her. For himself, for the galaxy…for that damn prophesy to be finally put to rest. Luke felt a brief pang of regret that his father had fulfilled the prophesy and never known; had created that balance, that symmetry in his son and his daughter. Twins, different aspects of the Force existing in equilibrium: dark and light, power and conscience.

But to complete the prophesy, Luke needed to activate that potential—needed to give Leia the same power as himself. So he would train her, as Yoda trained him; as a Jedi. He could remember Master Yoda's lessons, could place himself back in that mindset, albeit temporarily. Give her the power to stand against him, personally and politically, to _balance _him.

He needed someone to counter his own abilities, and it couldn't and shouldn't be Mara; he didn't want to be placed in contention against her even once. As Nathan had so diplomatically pointed out, despite their combined efforts, they were explosive enough without any extra incentives.

So he'd needed another Force-sensitive—but not just any; one who had more invested in maintaining this balancing act than simple friendship. Leia would have the strength and the standpoint to counter him, and the commitment and the relationship never to try to overthrow him—not seriously, at least. And he knew that he would allow her more leeway than any other, because of who she was. The temptation to eventually turn on anyone else would, sooner or later, come into play and he knew it. Whatever else he was, he was still Palpatine's Wolf.

But his sister would balance him, as the prophesy had said; where he was power, she was compassion. He had the initiative to counter her doubts, the drive to balance her cautious reserve, but she was the conscience to balance his temper, the restraint to curb his impatience…if he gave her the power. And he would; had started already, because without it, he couldn't continue. Without it, he would tear himself apart and he knew it. That was what the final vision of the throne had meant—the knowledge that if he sat on the throne, if he took that power _alone_, it would destroy him. But the natural balance was right here…it had been all along.

Would it be enough to counter all that his old Master had carved into him? He doubted it—though Leia had already voiced her hope that it could. It was, Luke suspected, her main motivation in agreeing to be taught. Perhaps she was right…

Because for the first time he genuinely believed he had something to temper the Darkness within, something to give him the confidence to act without Palpatine's shadow hanging over him. Something to hold the wolf in check.

Let the Darkness sit in his shadow; he would have the light to keep it there.

And he had Mara…he looked across the airy, opulent room and she turned instantly from where she stood speaking with Nathan close to the door, ever the bodyguard, even now, despite the ambassadorial robes which both wore. He'd noticed that her clothing had changed again in the last few weeks, looser, less form-fitting pieces the order of the day—though he was pretty damn sure that she had at the very least one blaster concealed in their folds somewhere, and her lightsaber of course; strictly for sentimental value, she claimed.

She raised her eyebrows as her head tilted in laconic question, but he only smiled slightly, admiring her, unabashed. Mara, whom he thought he could never trust again…and who, as it turned out, he'd trusted most of all. Mara, who'd been his strength even when he didn't realize it. He glanced down once to her stomach, and she ran her hand lightly across it, an unspoken language for a private passion. Where they went from here he didn't know—but he knew they'd travel together. They always had.

And his son—Leia had given his unborn son the most precious gift of all: choice. That alone would have bought her immunity even from his capricious nature. His son would grow up to a whole galaxy of promise and possibilities, all the potential in the worlds, all the choice—and in a galaxy where everyone had those same freedoms. Between the people in this room, they would make sure of it.

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Just one day after the launch of the Peace Summit, the Emperor's plain-spoken opening address assuring his enduring status as the man of the hour and champion of the people, Talon Karrde stood before the bank of tall glass doors in the Emperor's private office within the Cabinet of the Imperial Palace, gazing out at the magnificent sight of the sleeping ecumenopolis. A cool, low autumn mist lay between the blue-tinged buildings in the early morning light, the tallest spires reaching through the still haze of an early frost.

It was, he had to admit, an inspiring view, seen from an extraordinary building.

Just for a second, he wondered what it must be like to look out from this palace and know that all that you can see, you possess. To stand here in the dead of night and look up at the stars and know that your word commanded them, every single one.

Would he trade places with the Emperor, given the chance?

Not for a second. Knowing the man, knowing the price he paid every single day, Karrde could safely say that he was grateful to the soles of his boots that in an hour or so's time, he would turn around, walk out of here, and leave it all behind.

The Emperor, however…could he ever walk away? Would it ever truly be possible, despite all of his carefully laid plans?

He would—in an instant, if he could. Karrde had always seen that in the young man's eyes. It was one of the reasons he liked him. But deep in his heart of hearts, Karrde suspected that the Emperor would never get the opportunity he was working so diligently toward…and deep in his heart of hearts, Karrde suspected that Skywalker knew it too.

The door behind him slid open and the man himself walked through with an easy smile and, as ever, a hundred shields in place, visible in the fine lines to the edges of those distinctive mismatched eyes, and the tight set of his jaw, even when he spoke to those he trusted.

Karrde sketched a quarter-bow, never very comfortable with protocol, though the Emperor had never once called him on it.

Three months since his ordeal, the Emperor was fully recovered, though Karrde had heard that he'd apparently thrown himself back into the grind of governing his Empire on the very day he'd returned, much to the exasperated frustration of his long-suffering medic, Nathan Hallin. Perhaps that was the reason why the man had taken up a change in vocation, to diplomacy, no less—one had to be pretty desperate to go into that, Karrde reflected ruefully. Then again, anyone who managed to retain their cool when dealing with someone as quietly stubborn and endlessly unpredictable as the Emperor would probably find diplomacy a step down in pressure, even now, with the Rebel Alliance on Coruscant and odds-on expectations that a real, working, provisional Senate would actually be in existence by the turn of the year!

Comfortable enough to simply strike up a conversation with the man who was capable of pushing all this through by strength of will alone, Karrde gestured with a nod of his head back across the cityscape. "That's quite a view."

The Emperor glanced to the balcony. "Is it? I suppose so."

_I seldom have time to look_, was the casual inference. Still, the Emperor set forward onto the wide, marble-floored balcony and Karrde joined him, both men stopping at the carved balustrade to look out over the mist-wrapped city as the day crept over the broken horizon.

"I hear there are another series of reforms set to come into place—to go with your new legislative building, I presume," Karrde said into the silence.

"You hear too much."

"That's why you pay me so well," Karrde pointed out easily, eyes still on the city.

"I'd offer you a staff position to see if it would cut my costs, but I doubt you'd take one."

Karrde smiled, glancing down the sheer drop to the lavish, white-frosted roof gardens of the main Palace far below. "You know me, stubbornly independent."

"Or just plain stubborn," the Emperor said without malice. "Fortunately I know where you're coming from on that one so I won't ask again—though the offer's always on the table, you know that?"

"Thank you," Karrde replied, and meant it. "I hope this won't interfere with our existing arrangement?"

The Emperor shook his head, turning again to the endless city about them. "Business as usual."

"I don't think it's ever that, with you."

Skywalker half-turned, voicing mock offense. "What—I have a plan."

"Hardly the one everyone thought though, was it?"

The shade of a smile traced his lips. "Still isn't, just between you and me."

Karrde froze at that, a thousand potential possibilities coming to mind. "You, uh…wouldn't care to elucidate, would you?"

For long seconds the look in those mismatched eyes said that he just might…then it melted easily into a teasing smile, and he turned away. "I'll keep you updated."

"I'm sure." Karrde lifted up the lightweight folder he carried, holding it out to Luke. "I brought you a present—actually I brought you two, but this one's something and nothing, relatively speaking."

His words were dismissive, though his tone was anything but. The Emperor accepted it with obvious confusion, uncertain what it could be. Inside was a folded sheet of flimsiplast, dog-eared and ripped and yellowing with age, but obviously kept with care.

Warily opening the delicate, torn-edged sheet, looking suspiciously like he was defusing a bomb, the Emperor studied it…and stared in still silence.

Karrde watched his face closely, noting the slightest of momentary lines creasing that still-youthful forehead into a brief frown, though that was the only reaction and it lasted all of a second. Intensely aware of the uncanny, kinetic stillness which had wrapped about the Emperor, Karrde continued talking, wondering momentarily if he'd done the right thing.

"Ghent, my slicer, he follows swoop racing. Not the government-approved, squeaky-clean version—no offense," Karrde added, knowing the Emperor would take none, particularly in view of what he was looking at right now. "He prefers the real thing. Thrown together death-traps on out-of-the-way Rim planets where they can pretty much get away with anything, as long as they can clean the stains up afterwards."

Karrde gestured with his head, keeping his voice cool and casual. "He collects the vintage flimsiplast racing sheets too—the itinerary one-siders they used to post up on the day."

The Emperor glanced up at him and Karrde shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I have no idea why—don't ask me. I think he said he likes the old graphics. He has them on the walls of his quarters onboard the _Wild Karrde_. This one's almost ten years old, from some Rim planet called Tatooine. He picks them up on the HoloNet…all those restrictions lifting." Karrde leaned over slightly as he gestured with a finger. "It caught my eye right…there. The list of swoop racers for the second session identifies a swoop owned by a mechanic named Laze 'Fixer' Loneozner…the pilot is listed as Luke Skywalker, from Anchorhead on Tatooine. Local boy, presumably."

Skywalker—and Karrde was pretty sure now that this was the _same _Skywalker—made no move, and in the high wind it was impossible to tell whether the stained old flimsiplast sheet trembled in the current of air or in the grip of its holder.

"I thought you might like it," Karrde said neutrally, certain that it was everything it appeared to be. "I'm sure Ghent won't miss it and you do pay his wages after all…in a roundabout way."

He'd expected the Emperor to rip it up; destroy it beyond recognition and scatter the pieces to the wind. But he refolded the old flimsiplast sheet very carefully and replaced it in the folder without looking up.

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.

It had crossed Luke's mind to deny it, of course—to say it was a coincidence and ask the mercenary whether, now that he thought he knew the Emperor's name, he was going to bring him every scrap of information with any vague similarity. He could quite easily reach into the Force and make the conviction stick; make sure Karrde believed it irrelevant. Could just as easily reach into the man's mind and remove any memory of the name entirely. But it seemed petty and graceless after Karrde had gone to the effort of handing the sheet—the only reference to his old name and his old life that Luke had seen in almost a decade—over without conditions. The smuggler could easily have kept it; as a piece of the puzzle relating to the seemingly unassailable Emperor's past, it would be incredibly valuable on the underground market.

"Thank you," Luke said at last, the frosty air misting his words. "That's…very interesting."

They both turned to look out over the city again, frigid, frost-sharp shadows shrinking back before the chasing dawn, the endless buildings given jewel-bright embellishment from lights scattered across their hulking forms as the city woke.

"So, who was Fixer?" Karrde asked at last, his tone light.

Luke allowed the slightest of smiles to turn up the edges of his lips and sound in his quiet voice, knowing that the mercenary was just chancing his arm now, out of curiosity. "I'm sure I have no idea."

"No," Karrde said mildly without turning. "Of course not."

"Though I'd like to think he's in a cantina somewhere in the back of beyond right now, buying a drink for Jorj Car'das."

Karrde tensed almost imperceptibly at the casual reference to his own very private past, a twitch of that thick black moustache giving away his hidden smile. "Let's hope they get fall-down drunk and stay there, shall we?"

They remained in companionable silence for a minute or so, a new understanding reached and a few more shields dropped in comfortable response.

By both men—although each saw this only in the other.

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There was a polite knock at the door in the room behind them, then it slid aside, and Karrde watched the eternally nervous adjutant Turis set forward and bowing politely, a comlink in his hand. "Excuse me, Excellency, Commander Clem is requesting a word?"

"Oh, that must be your second gift," Karrde said, turning to the Emperor in a perfect feint of nonchalant realization, though the man probably knew that it was the reason he'd come today. "I left it in the care of Clem; it's probably been transferred to the Palace by now."

Karrde smiled as the Emperor set his head on one side in question. "I'll leave you with this one," he said mysteriously, sketching another uneasy bow as he made his retreat.

Despite all of the Emperor's actions and intentions, the mercenary knew him well enough to know that whilst the second gift he had delivered today would be very much appreciated, it wouldn't enjoy the same gentle treatment accorded that old swoop race one-sheet from some remote Rim-world planet. Like the incomparable palace which stood with such formidable grandeur at the center of the galaxy, for every elegant, accommodating façade and smooth, sophisticated front, there were still dark and dangerous shadows within the man who so seamlessly kept the palace, the galaxy, and very probably the fledgling Senate turning to his tune.

Let others run themselves ragged trying to separate and classify, and convince themselves that he was this or the other. Like all of those in the Emperor's close entourage, Karrde knew that the man who owned the Empire was a complex, compound twist from circumstance to circumstance, moment to moment.

In a way, curiosity prodded him to stay, to see just how vindictive the Emperor could truly be when he wished—and he would be when he saw Karrde's gift, obtained at great effort in a way that only an organization like Karrde's could do, as comfortable in the sewers of any city as it was in the spires. Which was why he would never take up the Emperor's offer; an official position would negate all of that and he would essentially become nothing more than another advisor.

No, he was better off where he was, doing what he was best at. The second gift was proof of that.

And he shouldn't stay, not for this. This was a private matter.

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Luke stood, composed and impassive, in the ostentatious extravagance of the Grand Stateroom. It was a room he seldom used, representing the very apex of Imperial affluence and opulence, a no-expense-spared testament to the excesses of Palpatine's Empire, as only his old Master could demand. He'd chosen the room with great deliberation, intending to convey subtle messages even in this, wishing to uphold his visitor's opinion of him, however incorrect.

He shouldn't, of course; shouldn't play this particular game…

But the Darkness in his shadow whispered with his old Master's voice, and he couldn't quite refrain—not every time.

He sighed deeply, and his breath misted against the cool of the early morning, the first trace of winter catching it as a pale haze on the cold of the transparisteel window pane he stood before, highlighted by the radiance from external arc-lights which illuminated the imposing hulk of the Imperial Palace for miles around.

On impulse, he stepped a little closer and let out another breath, misting the frigid pane before reaching up to scribe in the haze with his finger:

_And he balances on the biting blade, whilst devils and angels whisper._

Still in mind and body, he studied the words he remembered from the Seat of Prophesy as they faded to nothing… Then in a blur of motion, he turned about and quickly sat in the large, carved chair which faced away from the room, as its tall doors slid back into their housings.

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.

His wrists bound, Crix Madine was dragged by scarlet-clad Palace guards into a cavernous room, luxuriantly furnished and hung with a magnificent run of complex, elaborate tapestries. A long bank of floor-to-ceiling windows inset with stained glass and banded by delicate copper in fine, fluid lines, spilled wide blocks of artificial light into the room from an unknown source outside. It hit lustrous beaten palladium panels high in the ornately coffered ceilings and mirrored in radiant refraction across the pale marble floor of the vast chamber, the polished stone reflecting it up so sharply that for several seconds, Madine failed to notice the dark-clothed man who sat alone in one of the two carved arm chairs set before the bank of windows, gazing serenely out over the waking city.

He realized only when he was pulled almost level with him, and the man turned just slightly, level voice mild and amused.

"General Crix Madine. It's been a while."

Madine froze, held firmly in place by the guards. "Not nearly long enough."

"Oh, I'll bet. Take a seat."

The Emperor gestured casually and Madine was manhandled partway to the opposite chair before his captor spoke out again quietly.

"No…he can sit on his own."

Madine twisted free as the guards' grips loosened, and for long seconds he stood stubbornly, eyes on Skywalker, who held his gaze unblinking. In the loaded silence, the only noise came from a quiet staccato as Skywalker's fingers tapped against the carved arm of the chair in which he lounged… Madine held out a few seconds more as that tapping slowed before, gritting his teeth, he sat in the ornate damask chair.

The Emperor nodded to the guards without looking then waited, eyes on Madine, until they had left. When Madine held his silence, Skywalker glanced just once to his creased and crumpled fatigues. "You look a little tired, Madine. Life on the run not to your liking? A little different, I know, abandoned out on a limb with no back-up and no one left you can rely on."

"I have nothing to say to you," Madine grated.

"Not true," the Emperor admonished gamely. "As I said before, I always thought we had so much in common, both having stood either side of the fence, as it were."

That touch of a smile pulled at the long scar down Skywalker's cheek, still filling Madine with a rush of pride that he had helped put it there—a permanent reminder that the Emperor's enemies had teeth. Madine turned icily away to stare out of the windows.

"Does it bring back old memories?" the Emperor asked, following Madine's gaze to glance out over the city. "I understand you spent a lot of time on Coruscant…gathering information to take with you when you defected to the Alliance, no doubt. I hope it was useful."

"It was very useful."

"Not useful enough, apparently. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"You think that means you've won?" Madine sneered.

"Only the battle, not the war. But that's in hand."

"You'll never win."

"Thank you for that considered advice. I think I'll continue with my plans anyway."

uncertain what this was, madine paused just slightly. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk, no sticks or stones."

The slightest chink of confusion flashed across Madine's thoughts, and Skywalker smiled coolly.

"That first night on the _Wasp_—you said… 'Sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never hurt you.' Surely you remember? I do." Skywalker turned slowly away, voice quiet and even. "You were right, of course, with your sticks and stones. But what if…" Those uncanny, mismatched eyes came back to Madine, so intensely bright they seemed almost to glow in the dawn light.

"What if words can break you too?"

"Only if I believe them—and I've never believed a word you said."

"Which is ironic, because I generally tell the truth. Lies are so…unnecessary. Though I did lie when I said there was no such thing as the doomsday code—but then you knew that."

"Care to tell me it now?"

Skywalker smiled dryly. "No, not particularly."

"So you only do the truth thing when it suits you."

"Extenuating circumstances. I'm sure you can understand that—or would you care to tell me the communication codes and whereabouts of the sad, ragged little mob of anarchists who still follow you?"

"I'm not telling you anything. You can go to hell and take your whole stinking Empire with you—may you all rot." Madine blurted the words as a curse.

"What an angry, narrow-minded, vengeful man you are," the Emperor observed dispassionatley, voice was tinged with amusement.

"And you?" Madine countered, refusing to be intimidated.

"I wouldn't say I was narrow-minded. Ruthless, when I have to be… Explosive, so I'm told—but seldom narrow-minded. One loses one's way too quickly if one can't see every path. Besides, it negates the game."

"Is that what this is to you, a game?"

"Always," the Emperor said without hesitation. "Take it too seriously and it'll destroy you. Eat away at you and burn you up to fuel its fire."

"Did it still feel like a game on the _Peerless_, when the bomb went off? Did that _amuse _you? Or did it just plain hurt?"

Skywalker stared for long seconds before answering—but when he did, his voice was as calm and detached as ever. "Yes, it did. Very much. But it hurt a great deal more that I lost forty-seven men in that explosion."

"I very much doubt that."

"Although it was a small consolation that you lost your infiltration team, too. You should learn to take better care of your men, Madine, particularly since you have so few at your disposal now, Intel tells me. They rely on you—on your judgment. Place their lives in your hands. That's quite a responsibility to carry, the knowledge that their safety lies completely in your decisions."

Madine remained silent, not rising to the bait, knowing what Skywalker was talking about. That moment onboard the _Wasp _was burned into his memory and had razed through his nightmares too many times already.

Skywalker glanced casually away. "But then maybe you think agents are easy to come by."

"For me," Madine said confidently. "There are always people willing to fight, willing to inform on your Empire."

"I'm sure. Though I was talking for both sides of the divide."

"No—there was no one in the Alliance."

"You know that's not true," Skywalker countered. "As to who…you'd be surprised. Aside from Leia, of course. It's a pity you never went public with that. Don't get me wrong, it's a useful thing to have that much on your opponents, but now—now it's just another lost chance."

"Maybe not. You might well get a shock when news of my death comes out…might want to think twice about making any rash decisions."

Skywalker's dry smile never touched those icy eyes. "If you're intending to make a threat like that, you'd better have something to back it up with—which you haven't. Never try to bluff a Sith, Madine…unless you have some handy ysalamiri hidden close by again? No? How unfortunate. Another secret I'll do my level best to make sure you take to the grave with you." Skywalker resettled, cold amusement in his voice. "So, aside from Leia: agents, past—those right under your nose... Funny, it's never who you think, is it? Well, it's never who _you _think, anyway."

"You don't know what I thought."

"On the contrary, I know exactly who you thought was working for me. You told Tag Massa so often that it was Solo, she told me that in the end, she had to open an Intel file on him."

Madine gritted his teeth, well aware that Skywalker was now freely providing the kind of information he'd withheld at any cost onboard the _Wasp_, his blood boiling at the mention of Massa's true loyalties, and her part in his downfall. If he'd sent _any _other person to check on Organa's DNA test... But she'd always been so reliable, with an impeachable record long before her predecessor had…. He stopped dead, eyes widening at the full implications of Massa's betrayal.

"Odin Latt," he murmured of the Alliance's previous Intel Chief, whose untimely death had placed Massa in command. So she'd been Skywalker's agent even then.

"See, you can work it out—a little late, but still, you saw the link in the end."

"How did you get to her?"

"We ran quite a few missions together in the year or so following Yavin—before you'd even defected to the Alliance. The Rebellion was pretty scattered at that time, constantly on the run, lots of small units that combined and separated according to the mission. So few records were kept—and what little there were could easily be accessed and altered at a later date, especially by a rising Intel Officer assigned to _Home One _and wanting to give themselves a spotless past." Skywalker set his head to one side. "C'mon, Madine; you're the strategist, and that is my style after all. To recruit people or place spies in positions of less intense scrutiny and leave them there unused for a while before I finally removed their superiors and—look at that—suddenly they're in a position of power…and value. I did it so often—with Leia, with Commanders and Moffs in the Emperor's fleet before I ousted him." He paused in mock consideration. "If you'd had a reliable Intel Chief, they might have told you that…but there's that stumbling block; you didn't."

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.

Muscles strung taut beneath his perfect façade of calm indifference, Luke watched Madine boil at just how far the Alliance had been infiltrated for so long; how pointless all his efforts to find the renegade informer among them had been, hatched as they were by himself and the Alliance's own Intel Chief.

And here it was…everything that Luke had waited for. Everything he'd wanted—_needed_. Because whatever else he was, he couldn't ever quite step free of the wolf Palpatine had invested so much in creating. Or perhaps he didn't want to—not when it felt this good.

"I had to have someone to look after my main player. I spent a great deal of time and effort getting Leia to the point where she would be of value—I did, after all, remove Mon Mothma to put her in power. You should know that I told you the truth when I said that I'd never have removed Mon if she hadn't signed the assassination order you proposed. Because of you, she died. No validations here, no chains at my wrist. I'm free to say exactly what I want—to tell all those hard truths… Because of you, she died, Madine. Remember that."

"You're lying."

"I told you, I seldom lie. Leia was always my key, and Mon the obstruction that held me in check, until you…you flung the doors open wide and invited me in, Madine. You made it all possible—you made it easy. Leia on her own would never have been enough to achieve what was necessary, even with Mon dead. I needed something more, something with which I could rip your precious Rebellion in two and take only what I wanted. Only what I deemed worthy to survive… I needed something to unite my Empire and break apart the Rebel Alliance, and you…you handed it to me on a plate."

Luke shook his head disparagingly, his roguish smile carefully calculated, manipulating the truth just enough to feed all of Madine's fears and paranoia. And even now, even when Luke had _admitted _to him that he'd twist the truth to his own ends, Madine still gulped down every word, because it fed those expectations. And Luke kept on feeding them, because it still wasn't enough—not yet.

"An attack on the Imperial Sovereign? No one would tolerate that, Madine. You made an attack on everything they knew…and you triggered the inevitable knee-jerk reaction. The inhabitants of a thousand planets saw their Emperor bleed. They watched him take the moral high ground in the face of outrageous provocation. Before, I was their Emperor…now I'm their _leader_. They'd follow me anywhere, thanks to you.

"You should be grateful; if I'd wanted to, I could have used it to obliterate the Rebellion entirely. They would have had no place to run, no place to hide. But I needed them—some of them. I just needed them under control. I needed them, if not loyal then at least amenable, contrite…humiliated. And everything that you did took me closer to that."

Luke paused, allowing Madine the time to absorb this, and himself a moment of surprise at his own calculating rearrangement of fact and insinuation. How much was true and how much distorted or withheld just to see his enemy squirm? How much himself and how much Palpatine's wolf?

Because the man who had given Leia the authority she needed to counter him, and stood before the Peace Summit yesterday to give a speech pledging her Alliance and his own Empire the freedoms they so cherished, was also Palpatine's Sith advocate. And that man was all too aware of how easily those same actions could still enable him to take complete power, even now. He stood as he always did, poised at the very brink between dawn and darkness. Balanced on the blade.

All he knew for sure was that in this moment, he _needed _this. For this moment at least, he slipped the wolf's leash free.

"…You're lying..." It was all Madine could muster in the face of crumbling certainty.

"I've told you, I have no need for lies, reality is so easy to manipulate…and so much more enjoyable." Luke smiled, feeling it pull at the familiar scar on his lip. He'd had more than a few inflicted by the man sitting opposite him. It felt immeasurably good to give one back. "Funny…turns out that words can cause all kinds of damage too, doesn't it?"

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.

Madine stared, unable to muster any further anger against the sum of these damning claims. Had it all been manipulations? He'd always himself been the strategist, the master tactician who constantly led whilst others trailed behind. Had he failed so entirely to see this final play by Palpatine's savant? "You couldn't predict those responses…"

"It was so obvious. You didn't see it because you broke the golden rule, Madine; you lost perspective. You made it personal—your claim, not mine."

The Emperor settled back into his stately chair, coolly impassive tone as sharp as any blade. "I wanted you to know that before you die—that it's all been for nothing, because I _own _your precious leadership. I own your Rebellion. I wanted you to understand that it was your own petty need for a very public revenge which gave me that victory. I wanted you to feel the ground crumble from beneath your feet, and know that it was because of me. You see, _this _is revenge, Madine. Real revenge. Believe me, I know. I know what really hurts… I know every single lesson because I was taught by a master. Going after the individual, hurting them because they hurt you, wanting to draw blood publicly for all the galaxy to see, that's nothing. Not an actual waste of time and energy but certainly an opportunity missed. Revenge—real revenge—is to take from your enemy what they value most and destroy it. Break it apart a piece at a time and show them the shattered shards before you finally kill them. You came after me, Madine, it was you who claimed this was personal…so now I take everything from you. Everything. And no one else will ever know except you and me. Real revenge doesn't require an audience…"

Those penetrating, mismatched eyes held Madine's for long seconds, shrewd and sharp and preternaturally bright…then the Emperor settled, his voice loosening just slightly. "My Master, he always thought that it did—I disagree. That's simple conceit—vanity, pride. Pointless emotions that nevertheless reveal to everyone just exactly what's going on in your head. No, I conduct my private life behind closed doors. I have nothing to prove and I certainly have nothing I intend to give away."

"And Mon Mothma?"

The Emperor shrugged. "Mothma's public execution was nothing to do with me. How Palpatine chose to mollify his own injured pride was his affair. But as I said, she did have one last use to serve, even in her removal: her capture bought me the freedom to go after the rest of her Rebellion." He leaned forward as if imparting advice. "Never waste your opportunities."

"Bastard." The word was from Madine's lips before he'd even thought it—but the Emperor only smiled, unoffended.

"At the very least."

"Someone will stop you—even Organa will turn on you, when she sees the truth."

For a second—for a split second—Madine saw that perfect façade crack just slightly, the Emperor's voice distant as he spoke. "Maybe. The truth is a slippery thing…sometimes I don't even know it myself anymore."

"That's because you use it so rarely."

Skywalker grinned, seeming to recover his poise in the face of familiar condemnations. "Perhaps she'll reform me; she seems to want to."

"You're way past any hope, Sith."

"That's what I told her." He smiled as if in genuine agreement—then seemed to stumble again, considering. "But she has faith…which is a strange thing."

"Faith in someone like you, is."

But as ever, it was hard to land an insult on someone who clearly thought so little of himself. Skywalker gave that easy, calculated smile, the one that made him appear so unassuming. "It is, isn't it—and with so much hard evidence to the contrary… Yet people still do it—I have no idea why. I have no such faith, it was beaten out of me a long time ago… I seldom miss it."

For a second he faltered, seeming lost, and Madine didn't even hesitate to strike. "I don't believe you ever had it—how could you…Vader's son."

That brought Skywalker's eyes up. "My father was at least trying to stabilize, to build…you know only how to destroy."

Madine lifted his chin. "And you?"

"I know how to do both very well."

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Madine growled. "I hope you can sleep at nights."

"Seldom." That roguish smile lit his face again. "But that doesn't seem to stop me."

"I should have killed you when I had a gun to your head."

"Yes, you should have—I told you more than once to pull the trigger. But you just couldn't let it be over that easily, could you? You had to string it out for your own personal gratification. Myself, I would have pulled the trigger and walked away…and slept very well that particular night."

"No, you had the chance to kill me and didn't."

"Timing, that's all. A trick of the fates." A cold, feral edge took Skywalker's expression from self-possessed to menacing in a single blink of mismatched eyes. "Be grateful—if I had taken that chance to kill the man who'd threatened the life of my son and his mother it would, I promise you, have been a slow and visceral affair."

Without warning Skywalker launched forward, a blur like a striking snake, making Madine jerk back in shock with bound arms rising as Skywalker's hands hit the seat to either side of his head. A slow, sadistic smile came over Skywalker's face, voice little more than a whisper but easily heard, so close was he.

"You understand—the moment you did that, you were dead. But here's the thing—I'm not going to be the one to do it, Madine. I know myself, and I know that if I so much as touch you, you're dead. Because I won't hold back...I wouldn't be capable, simple as that. I'd turn you inside out, I'd rip you limb from limb... I'd open up your ribcage and smear you all over that chair you're trying so hard to disappear into right now. I couldn't kill you fast enough...and I could never kill you as slowly as I'd want to."

In a single, fluid movement he pushed off and withdrew to settle into his chair without once taking his eyes off Madine, composure perfectly reinstated as if it had never cracked. "But you see, unlike you I can still differentiate between personal indulgence and necessity. I need to know what you know. I need to know that every trap your little band of miscreants has laid centers on me, not my son or his mother…or the Empire I'm creating on the ashes of your sad little dreams… And I'm sure I'll read about it all eventually, when the interrogators have finished with you."

Madine shook his head. "I don't have the answers. I just give them what they ask for and send the units out."

"You don't care what damage they do."

"To your Empire, no—or your Empress."

Skywalker's chin lifted just slightly. "So you still determine the targets?"

"That's right—and she's still a viable target as far as I'm concerned. It's still two birds with one stone, and this is still a war."

"No, it's not—not any more. But that won't stop you sending your teams, will it? I doubt they'll be successful…but if they are, we'll hang black pennants and fly the flags at half-mast, and people everywhere will feel justly outraged that their Emperor has lost the wife who fought so hard to gain his freedom, at the hands of the same anarchists who tried to murder him… But just to clarify—that would be only the one bird…and you'd be more than a little off-target."

Madine hesitated as Skywalker let that cold, confident smile widen. "You're sending them after the wrong woman, Madine...and you want to know the worst part? You had the real one standing in front of you...she was right there in the bay onboard the _Wasp _when you had a blaster in your hands."

Madine frowned, the ground pulled from under his feet again as his mind scrambled to comprehend, but the only woman he'd seen in the _Wasp's _hold was Jade. She clearly had a history with Skywalker, of course…but as a mistress; as an anonymous passing amusement whilst D'Arca remained Empress. It was she who'd ruled in his stead, she who, with her Royal blood, carried the Emperor's…

Madine glanced up, eyes widening at Skywalker's taunting smile.

"You could have killed Jade—and so my son—right then…and you and I both know damn well that if you had, it would have stopped me dead. You were so close, Madine—even if everything else had've fallen apart, you were still so close. She was right there. All you had to do was get past your own narrow preconceptions of who you wanted me to be. Who you needed me to be, to validate your own actions. All you had to do was be able to turn that gun away from me…but you couldn't do that, could you? You lost sight of the larger picture…" The Emperor paused just slightly. "So let me clarify one last time just what that cost you… I have my Empire, I have the Alliance...and my son and his mother are safe and sound and, for now, completely anonymous."

Madine felt himself slowly collapse as Skywalker continued to taunt in amicable tones, as if this were some shared joke, all part of his game. "You know you could have lived out your sad little life believing you were fighting for some greater cause and I would never even have noticed you, Madine. But you were the one who proposed my assassination—then like a fool, you brought yourself to my attention all over again; imprisoned and interrogated me, threatened those close to me for your own petty, blinkered satisfaction. You _made _it personal…and I can't let that pass. As I said, we have so much in common. Except one thing, of course—I've won. You've lost—in every possible way, you've lost… You lost your way, you lost your reputation, you lost your protection, your comrades, your status, your backing...you lost your war. So you tell me," those piercing, pitiless eyes sparked with barbed amusement, "doesn't that just break you up inside, Madine—and not a stick or stone in sight."

He pressed a small, etched silver comm on the low table beside him, and the far doors opened immediately for Palace Guards to march purposely forward, as Madine stared ahead without seeing. He was barely aware of being hauled upright as Skywalker rose to leave, dismissive now, smoothing the line of his impeccably fitted, high-collared jacket.

"You'll excuse me, but I have an Empire to command and a Rebellion to dismantle. And your misguided, tattered little band of anarchists won't simply run themselves into oblivion. You're small fry, Madine—that's all you ever were; unfinished business which dovetailed neatly into the larger picture. A minor amusement. I won't be there for your execution when they think they've dragged all the useful information they can from you, I'm afraid—I have more important things to do. But you can go to your death knowing that you entertained an Emperor for a full…" he glanced momentarily to the huge faceted chrono high on the wall, "what…ten minutes? So your life hasn't been a complete waste."

Skywalker passed him...and Madine launched forward with a wild yell, bound arms outstretched, fingers tensed to claws—

Palpatine's Wolf didn't shy back, didn't even flinch as the guards grabbed at Madine, grappling him to the ground so that his last view of his enemy was with the world on its side as he was held down, the Emperor not even bothering to glance back as he walked away.

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**_EPILOGUE_**

_**.**_

_I was there—I was there, on Home One, on the day it was announced._

_A part of history, that's what the Emperor said in his speech at the opening of the Senate; that every single person who witnessed this was a part of history, part of one of the most momentous events in decades._

_He was right. It was dizzying, it was exhilarating, it was inspiring._

_It was freedom...the spark to ignite the flame._

_One year to the day after he'd opened the Peace Summit, the Emperor reinstated the Imperial Senate after a decade of absence; almost three since the Old Republic Senate—the last truly autonomous Senate—had been disbanded. Although he still held ultimate power, in his inaugural speech to the newly formed body, he cited a declaration that he would eventually hand that authority over to the fully-implemented Senate._

_Meanwhile, the members of this newly invested Senate were a revelation to everybody, even here, and word spread through the galaxy like wildfire, the now-unlocked HoloNet overloaded within the hour. It comprised scholars, academics, the Royal Houses, a smattering of military and political dignitaries…and members of the moderate wing of the previously outlawed Rebel Alliance._

_We were pardoned, you see; we were all acquitted. In the space of one speech and by the power of one man, after decades of fighting we were acknowledged as a political and not a militant body. Those of us who'd stayed with Leia Organa and the more moderate Alliance were exonerated. Leia Organa herself was already emerging as one of the leading new Senators. Free to come and go as she wished, free to speak out without hindrance, as her conscience demanded._

_That was their charge, he said; their duty—their burden. To speak out. To question, to mediate, to debate._

_The first task assigned to the Emperor's new Senate was to plan for and hold open elections for Planetary and System officials to be included in an intended 'House of Representatives.'_

_Elections; representatives…Senate; we have a democracy. Inexperienced and untested and hopelessly unprepared—but we have a democracy._

_They say that in the dark times—in Palpatine's reign—the bright light of freedom dwindled to a spark. Strange then, that this spark was held in the heart of our new Sith Emperor. It's rumored that his father was the Old Republic Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, whispered that Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader._

_Some say destiny will not be eluded or averted, no matter what events are played out before it. Some whisper of legends and prophesies handed down through the ages—The Son of Suns._

_Some say the Force is like the swell of a river, that it will flow around any obstacle in its course to the sea._

_One wonders how it could have been different. Whether the end would have been the same...whether it was always meant to be._

_Myself, I like to believe that we have a little room to maneuver. But I like to think that there is something helping us—some greater purpose that the exceptional few can hear and comprehend._

_Some guiding Force._

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This is the way of things, the will of the Force.  
Everything crumbles.  
Intentions and Empires, Councils and kinships.  
Aspiration to ambition to atrophy,  
Desire to domination to dust.  
Only the will of the Force remains.

Beginnings are bought at the cost of an end,  
New Hope given life when all else is lost.  
From darkness comes light; from destruction salvation.  
Son of Suns—the Force given form.

That which is fallen will rise to dominion,  
That which is riven will heal the rift.  
That which is tainted transcends every limit,  
The One who will falter will balance the way.

It is shadows whose edge define the light  
At the brink of the dawn and the darkness.

The Son of Suns Prophesy  
_Jedi Master Egorin Dovas translation; 3/14,159 [-minus].  
Engraved into the Sunburst Throne (The Seat of Prophesy) circa 23,711 [-minus]  
(Lost, presumed destroyed)_

_._

**Fin.**


	49. Chapter 49

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Well, that's it folks, the end of the trilogy. Hope you enjoyed it.

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Special thanks have to go out to my fabulous úber-Beta, **Jedi-2B**, who has patiently beta'd the whole of this massive trilogy without a single complaint - a feat in itself!

Also, of course, to Gabri_Jade, and Kataja, who always keep me enthused when I'm griping and grumbling.

And as ever, a massive, hugely well-earned thank you to everyone who took the time to post reviews for it, especially those who kept on coming back and gave me so much feedback week after week—that's commitment! Because of you, I kept going. Otherwise, I swear, I would still be on Chapter Eighteen of Into the Storm and the trilogy would be a solitary!

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For anyone who doesn't know, with the finish of this, I'll be taking a rest from this particular AU for a while, and heading on to pastures (and AU's) new—still Star Wars of course!

Who knows, I may come back to this one day. I've purposely left a few loose ends dangling for people's imaginations to fly with (I just prefer it when books that I read do that), and I may pick up a few of those threads myself—I know just where it would go ;P

The story I'm moving on to will be **Empire's Son, **which starts tonight. For those who like such things (like me!), there's a pic to launch it already up at my website, the link for which is on my bio page.

After that, I'll be trying my hand at a full-length piece which is a lot lighter in tone, more in the vein of my vignettes. Again, there's a short excerpt on my website, in Upcoming, if you want a peek.

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**_Hope you enjoyed the ride,_**

**_Blank_**

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